Kryptonite Isn't Always Green
by JT4Life
Summary: P/O: Takes place after 'August'. Olivia gets a visit later that night, one with a turn-out that she wasn't expecting. It changes things, but for better or worse? rated T for safety later on. enjoy! VERY LAST CHAPTER FINALLY UP!
1. Chapter 1

_Hello! This one's based on a discussion my family and i actually had while watching the ep 'August'. Thought I'd give it a spin and see how it goes! And by the way, it's got nothing to do with Superman, i just watched an ep of smallville (Pandora, such a good ep!) and the title popped into my head. As always, this is a Bolivia fic, and i tried to give this one a bit more plot than my other fics have had lately... sorry about that. just gonna have a little more fun with this one.... ;)_

_I don't own fringe.... or any green radioactive meteor rock :D_

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**Kryptonite Isn't Always Green**

"_Look how happy she is. It's a shame things are about to get so hard for her…."_

….

Olivia returned from the afternoon at the amusement park with Ella, who was passed out and snoring softly on her shoulder, and a grin that she couldn't lose even if she'd wanted to. She eased carefully into the house, going to lengths to make sure Ella didn't wake up. It was late, and the little girl had had a packed day, filled with cotton candy, rollercoasters, and more cotton candy. After her sugar rush, Ella's eyes had begun to droop, and Olivia had seen how much she had been fighting to stay awake in the backseat the whole way home.

Removing Ella's shoes, socks, and jacket, Olivia carried her niece to bed, tucking her in. Her smile only grew when she saw a loose strand of pink cotton candy in the girl's hair. She picked it out gently and kissed a sleeping Ella on the forehead before backing slowly out of the room. She was careful to close the door three quarters of the way so that only some of the light from the hallway spilled onto the carpeted bedroom floor – just the way Ella liked it.

Thoroughly worn out herself, but not yet ready to go to bed, Olivia shuffled back down the hall to the kitchen barely lifting her feet up off the floor. Her eyes kept hazing over in the bright kitchen lights and she had to blink several times to clear them. A lone package of Mr. Noodles caught her eye in the back of a once-thought empty cupboard, as well as a whiskey bottle that was also empty, save for a couple sips.

She only sat down on the couch when the lights in the apartment were all dimmed to her liking, bowl of Mr. Noodles in one hand and the liquor bottle on the other. There was so little left it was just a hindrance to pour it into a glass. Olivia sat back and sighed. Today had been nothing less than a whirlwind. And now all she needed was this, this silence and peace and –

A soft knocking on her door interrupted her thoughts and Olivia contemplated just ignoring it. If it were something important, someone would have called her. One glance at her phone on the coffee table showed no missed calls, and Olivia was happy to just sit on the couch and enjoy her moment. Well, not that it was much of the quiet evening she had been expecting, not after this disturbance. Begrudgingly, she took one large gulp of her whiskey and forced herself to get up.

Glancing through the peephole, Olivia unwittingly felt the smile on her face flare up again.

"Hey," Peter greeted her once she'd opened the door.

"Peter, hi," Olivia leaned casually on the doorway, running a hand through her hair as a wave of self-consciousness washed over her. Just by touching it, she could tell that her hair was more of a mess than she'd thought it would be after a day at a theme park. All of the little flaws in her appearance suddenly jumped to the front of her mind; the scuffs on the bottom of her pants from running between attractions at the park; the small red spot on the bottom edge of her t-shirt, a byproduct of putting too much ketchup on both her and Ella's hotdogs.

_Why am I so worried? It's only Peter…_

He was eying her strangely, and Olivia frowned, confused. "What?"

Peter stepped closer to her, so close that their noses weren't much more than an inch or two apart, and then he did something totally unexpected. He _sniffed_ her.

"You've been drinking," he concluded, voice low and raspy, almost in warning, after a long moment of intense proximity that resulted in Olivia's stomach doing a few back flips. She was frozen in his presence, and the mental replay of his voice. She hated to admit it, but that tone made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end and, mixed with exactly how close they'd been standing, sent a fiery chill through her body.

He stepped back and Olivia scrounged up an explanation. "Just a glass's worth, that's all. She glanced up at him for a moment, and upon seeing his coy smile, she knew that he wasn't looking for an explanation; he just wanted to show her that he'd noticed and that he was… worried? Concerned? "I'm fine Peter, I just needed to wind down a bit."

Again, she was rattling off an excuse. Peter smiled and shook his head.

"If I had a penny for every time the words 'I'm fine' came out of your mouth, I would be able to retire early."

Olivia smiled back. Admittedly, he could be pretty funny and always knew how to get a grin or two out of her.

"Peter," she began softly, "it's late; it's almost midnight… is everything alright?"

"With me? Fine. Walter on the other hand," he paused, choosing his words carefully, "he's been having trouble making his favorite banana milkshake because he's already made about five this evening and we're out of bananas."

With that charm smile set in place, Olivia was at his mercy. She knew he was stalling, but she played along.

"Did you come here looking for some?"

"No, but if you've got a couple it would save me the trip to the store I'm about to make."

Olivia thought of her cupboards and how some were gathering dust from lack of use. "Sorry, I'm fresh out… of most kinds of food actually." She looked down in shame and ran her hand through her hair again. This was becoming a very bad habit.

"I'll be sure to pick some up for you, then," he winked and smiled – a lethal combination. "But before I do…" he trailed off and exhaled slowly. "I just want you to hear me out."

Olivia nodded. Now they were getting somewhere.

"Olivia, I trust you – you know that. I also know that you're good at what you do, and that any perp who's got you on their heels doesn't stand a snowball's chance in hell." He glanced up at her, trying to gauge her reaction, she guessed, before continuing. "But… when it's you and the perp playing a back and forth game of cat and mouse, then you… you've got to be more careful. Call for backup and actually wait half a second so that they can do their jobs and not show up when you've already caught the guy… or he's got you." Peter's voice broke on the last word and he cleared his throat quickly. Olivia opened her mouth to protest but he held up a hand. "Please, Olivia, let me finish." To her own surprise, she nodded and backed down. "You almost got shot on this last case. You got lucky that I was there when I was." A disbelieving chuckle escaped his lips. "You always seem to get lucky, 'Livia. You've had tons of close calls, and there have been countless times you should have come out of a situation hurt or worse… and all I guess I'm saying is that I'm afraid that that's all going to change." Peter swallowed. "And I wouldn't be able to live with that."

Olivia didn't know what to say, or even how to react. She opened her mouth and closed it a few times before she was able to stitch together a reply.

"I'm not lucky, I just get the job done right, that's all. Danger is a big part of what I do –"

"You think I don't already know that?" Peter cut her off, a steel edge to his voice, taking her by surprise. "I have seen you kidnapped, tortured, knocked out, beaten up…. Believe me when I say that I know what's in a standard job description for an FBI agent, but it doesn't come anywhere close to what you've got under your belt. When I say your job, I mean _you_, Olivia. Not just any agent. Only _you_."

"Well if I don't do it then who will?" she snapped back. Peter had hit a nerve and it was sizzling inside her, slowly firing up her anger.

"I don't know!" He fired back. They were yelling now. "I don't know – just not you."

"Why not me? If you haven't noticed, I'm a big girl. I can take care of myself. I've _been_ taking care of myself. I want to do this."

Frustrated, Peter ran his hand through his hair. "What if you get hurt? What if something happens to you? Have you ever stopped to consider what that means, or are you just too preoccupied with your damn job to think about the other people in your life and how it would affect them??"

"They," Olivia began, adding venom to each individual word, "know the risks. It's not their decision to tell me what I can and cannot do. If I get hurt, _then so be it_."

"_That's not good enough Olivia!_" Peter roared.

She took a deep breath, preparing to fire another snarky comment back at him, but a voice from one of the surrounding apartments yelled out to the street, complaining about the noise and telling them to shut the hell up.

Peter took a step closer to her so that they were face to face, staring each other down with burning fires of equal magnitude reflecting in each other's eyes. Lowering his voice considerably, he spoke with as much if not more bitterness than Olivia. "_That is not good enough, Olivia Dunham_."

With that, he turned and stomped angrily down her front steps, jumped into the Cruiser and banged the door shut at the same time as Olivia slammed the front door and dead bolted it furiously with a new-found hatred for the small metal lock.

Whatever kind of a good mood she'd been in before opening the front door only minutes ago was long gone. Frowning at her now cold bowl of noodles, Olivia eyed the nearly empty bottle of whiskey beside it and mentally kicked herself for not having more hard liquor in the house. She put the noodles in the microwave but didn't heat it up. It would be there for breakfast tomorrow.

Downing the last of the whiskey in one gulp, Olivia stomped off to bed, muttering curses the whole way. _W__asn't good enough?_ Who the hell did he think he was to tell her what was and wasn't best for her? She would decide what was best for herself, just like she always had.

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_Got your interest peaked yet?_

_Well, this is going to have at least a couple more chapters... we'll see how it goes. And i'll do my best to keep the updates relatively close together..... :P_

_If the title doesn't make sense yet, i promise it will in a chapter or two.... Stay tuned! ;)_


	2. Chapter 2

_Well, here's a quick update! Didn't think i'd be able to do it so soon, but my ideas are flyin' for this one :)_

_disclaimer: i don't own any of it. honest._

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Olivia's temper hadn't dwindled over the course of the night as she had hoped it would. When she woke up the next day, the anger was as prevalent as if she'd only just laid her head on the pillow after her row with Peter. So when she came bursting into the basement lab at exactly half past eight and Peter was not there, Olivia's fury only grew.

"Walter!" she snapped, making him jump away from his project in surprise. "Walter, where's Peter?"

"I don't know, Agent Dunham. He said that he was going to run to the store and grab something this morning, oh what was it…" Olivia crossed her arms and tried her best to be patient as the scientist racked his muddled brain for the memory. "Ah! He was going to get me some bananas. For my milkshakes you see…"

"Didn't he already get you those last night?"

"No, he said he would but came home empty-handed and wouldn't tell me why. I presume that he paid you a visit instead? It really is quite juvenile of him to not tell me where he was really going, I know that my son is old enough to enjoy a lady's company…."

"Walter!" Olivia said through gritted teeth. "Not today, ok?"

He nodded meekly. "Alright, my dear. But can I ask one thing first?"

"Yes," she replied, exhausted, pinching the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger.

"Did something happen between you and Peter that I should know about?"

Olivia opened her eyes and took a moment to actually look at Walter. In those random lucid periods, he actually seemed to know exactly what he was talking about, and his eyes lost that wild gleam. This appeared to be one of them.

A small sigh crossed Olivia's lips and she forgot about her anger for a moment. "Nothing that concerns you, Walter. Don't worry about it."

"Very well, very well…" he trailed off and immediately returned to tinkering away like nothing had happened, and Olivia knew that lucid Walter was gone.

A buzzing noise alerted Olivia to the fact that her phone was ringing and she whipped it out of her pocket as the door to the lab opened and Peter appeared, grocery bag in hand. The familiar look on his face said that he too hadn't forgotten about their argument.

"Dunham," she answered with a little more bite than usual. "Alright… Ok… Yes, yes sir, we'll be right there."

"We have a case. Let's go." Short and not-so-sweet was how this would be, she thought, as she stormed past Peter and out of lab without a second glance.

X

They arrived at the Arlington address after a horribly awkward car ride that consisted mostly of Peter and Olivia throwing each other dirty looks and scowls while Walter sat in the backseat looking confusedly between the two. Olivia purposely left the Bishops in her wake, swiftly exiting of the SUV without so much as a glance back.

"Dunham," Broyles greeted her quickly, leading her up the walk to the house, dodging crime scene tape and FBI personnel along the way. "This morning, a woman reported a break in. Said that the guy broke into her house around three in the morning, at least that's when she heard the noise downstairs. She called the cops, and as soon as the sirens showed up, he left. All that's been reported missing is some jewelry and a Rolex."

Olivia balked. "So this is just a regular burglary? I'm sorry to ask sir, but then why are we here?"

"No, it isn't a normal burglary. You haven't seen this yet," Broyles led her around the corner of the house to what Olivia supposed was the side entrance. "This is the unusual part."

At first, Olivia didn't see anything out of the ordinary, but then she noticed the mail slot. The metal was oddly lengthened and warped, like something had stretched it. But what would be strong enough, Olivia didn't know. A closer look revealed something even weirder – the edges of the metal were indented with what looked like….

"Hand marks. So are we being invaded by some super strong kryptonians?" Olivia pursed her lips and rounded on the source of the voice she knew all too well.

"Grow up, Peter."

He frowned playfully as Walter ran around the crime scene behind them, examining it to the max, and interrogating the surrounding agents for information.

"Oh, come on Olivia. Stop being so uptight," Peter shrugged off her daggers look and edged past her to get closer to the crime scene.

She would have replied with another tough quip, but found that the words stalled on her tongue. So she swallowed the bile and set to work, ignoring Peter as much as she could along the way.

X

Three hours later found Olivia sitting in her office without so much as one lead on the case. All they knew was that the burglar had, for some reason, decided to crank open the mail slot with nothing more than his hands (gloved, so no fingerprints to lift), that he was no more than a petty thief, and that there was no discernable point of entry into the house, nor any trace of how he'd gotten out so quickly and managed to escape the cops. No footprints on the lawn, no fingerprints, no incriminating evidence. The only description they had came from the woman who saw the guy lurking around on her main floor for a fraction of a second before hurrying back upstairs to call the cops; short dark hair under a black balaclava, black pants, black shirt. It was barely a morsel of information that could be used to describe almost anyone.

Olivia put pressure on her temples, eyes closed. Today was just not a good day. On top of the relentless case, her constant battle with Peter was exhausting, both mentally and physically. She wasn't sure how long she could keep this up. What were they even fighting over anyways? She'd almost lost sight of the reason itself. He was just so stubborn sometimes, but only when it came to her. Stubborn and protective. That thought alone was enough to set her anger on reset. He said that he trusted her, but there was no way that that could be true, not when he was telling her that she was being reckless with her own safety.

"Olivia."

She looked up, removing her hands from her head. Peter was standing in the doorway, arms crossed.

"What do you want? Peter, I'm busy…" she hurriedly began stacking and rearranging papers on her desk to make it look like she was hard at work.

"You've got a headache."

She threw him a sharp glance as he shut the door behind him and walked slowly over to her desk, hands deep in his pockets. There was still a glare etched into his face, but it had changed, softened. The edge was also gone in his voice, and Olivia couldn't place what exactly had taken its place.

"Yes, I do have one. You're not helping it." She cringed inwardly. That was a little harsh, especially since he came in here on his own and, so far, wasn't being an ass.

"Then maybe this will," Peter circled her desk and sat on the edge of it. She tensed up automatically, but Peter's hands were suddenly on her face, cradling her head. His thumbs made slow, lulling circles on her temples, making her eyes droop. An audible breath of relief escaped her and her muscles completely surrendered to his touch. "You've got to rub them like this; too much direct pressure only makes it worse…" There it was again, that low, calm voice that made everything else go away, that voice that showed her another side of Peter that was unlike any of his façades, one that she was growing quite fond of. "Olivia, I'm sorry –"

Her eyes snapped open at his last words. The action caused a quick, sharp pain behind her temples and she blinked away the tears, but it was enough to tip Peter off. One hand was now under her chin and for a moment, she felt like caving in, surrendering, and saying it was one big misunderstanding, but that nerve he'd set off was still sizzling. She stood up quickly and his hands fell.

"I've got work to do, and we don't know a thing about this guy." She paused when he didn't move, still perched on the edge of her desk. "Peter, you're sitting on my work."

He jumped up with a quick sorry, a weak attempt at a half-smile, and left, the door closing quietly behind him.

In one slow inhale and exhale, Olivia took a moment to breathe and collect her frenzy of emotions before sitting down. Not five seconds later, her phone buzzed. It was Broyles.

"Get the Bishops, we've got another break in."

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_How am I doing? Still interested? Reviews are just as good as (if not better than) deelish thanksgiving leftovers..... ;)_

_oh and a very happy shopping day to all the crazy 'day after thanksgiving sales' doorbusters! I know i was raiding target, best buy, and kohl's at 5am this morning.... can't complain :D_


	3. Chapter 3

_Well i'm on a roll here folks. i don't think i've EVER had three chapters posted this closely together! i've just been having so much fun with this fic, i got really invested in it over the last few days.... :)_

_disclaimer: i don't own fringe. just playin with it for a short bit ;)_

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The first thing Olivia noticed was that the new crime scene wasn't more than a twenty-minute drive from the previous one, just south of Arlington and almost dead in the center of Cambridge.

Local police forces immediately notified the FBI when another unnatural break-in occurred, except this time they arrived right on the tail end of the robbery. A couple black SUVs joined the police cavalry that came screeching up to surround the townhouse from both sides – half of the vehicles around to the front, the other half to cover the narrow alleyway behind this particular block of townhouses. Olivia, Peter, and Walter's car skidded to a stop in the alley without so much as a nick in the paint, all thanks to Olivia's expert driving skills.

Barely even having to think about it, she jumped out of the car, pulled out her gun and pointed it at the back door, using the front of the car for cover. She distantly heard Peter telling Walter to stay in the car, but it was no more than a fain buzzing in the background. All of her energy was focused on the back door as agents clad in bulletproof gear surrounded the house. Slowly, the task force moved into the building. The word 'clear' crackled on the radio at least two dozen times as the agents systematically checked every room.

"Clear, all clear. There's no one in this building, sir," one voice confirmed. Immediately, the tension eased up around the various law enforcement personnel outside. Olivia dropped her gun to her side and shoved it back into its holster. Of course, she wished that she could have been part of the task force that got to actually go into the house, but traffic had prohibited them from getting to the scene fast enough. As well, Walter had taken up a precious five minutes of their time trying to find his coat, something that nearly drove Olivia up the wall. It also didn't help her problem with Peter, as she had been growing more and more frustrated by the second and fixed her anger mostly on Peter for not helping to look for the coat, and for being an incompetent caregiver.

"_Excuse me?" he had spoken slowly, his voice thick with a fury that almost scared Olivia. Almost. He marched right up to her and, fists balled up in an effort to contain some of his anger, spoke in a forced whisper. "You try spending almost every moment of your day with this man, then tell me if I'm incompetent if I can't find his damn coat."_

"_We don't have time for this," she had hissed back. "Our guy is out there right now and this could be our last chance to find him, considering that we don't have any idea as to who he is."_

"_But if your lead scientist, who happens to be a little emotionally unstable if you haven't noticed, refuses to help in the investigation because you angered him, then, perp or no perp, you're screwed."_

_Olivia had just stared back at him, a flashback of her front step the night before running through her mind's eyes. "Just find it. Meet me in the car when you do." And then she walked away._

It was with that poignant memory of yet another fight with Peter that Olivia marched up to Broyles who was standing by one of the other SUVs.

"Sir?"

"Yes Dunham."

"Sir, I think that I should have been a part of that task force – "

"Save it Dunham."

Olivia balked. "Ex-excuse me?" At his stern glance she quickly added, "sir."

"I said, save it," her boss, already almost two heads taller than she, towered over Olivia. "I don't know what your problem it today, but this attitude of yours is despicable. I need my agents to be on the job, no matter what else is going on. You were late, and you missed the train, Dunham. That's your fault and yours alone."

"But sir – "

"_I wasn't finished_," Broyles' iron clad voice turned her tongue to lead. "Lose the attitude. Get yourself together. This job, _your_ job in particular, isn't easy. We don't know what we're dealing with here, and that's what you need to figure out."

She nodded and tried to breathe calmly.

"The best thing for you to do now is to wait here until we can gather some evidence from the scene."

Another nod, and Broyles, convinced that he'd gotten his point across, turned and walked away over to another agent.

Meanwhile, Olivia was seething. Something her boss had said about it specifically being 'her' job had sparked her memory. Peter had said something frighteningly similar to her the day before, and hearing it again set her ablaze, smothered by a cloud of confusing emotions, one of which was anger; another by the name of frustration.

She marched away from the scene and pressed her forehead against the red brick wall opposite the apartment houses. Spinning on her heel, Olivia turned to be able to lean her back along the wall instead. To her right lay the crime scene all abuzz with activity and forensic excitement. She saw Broyles talking to a group of agents, while Walter was poking and prodding through a plastic baggy that Peter had just handed him. Squinting, Olivia could make out that the bag held what looked like… cheerios. The man had a baggy of _cheerios_. Now she felt bad for her earlier accusation that Peter was a bad caretaker for his father. Who else would have thought to make the scientist his own snack bag? Despite her dispute with the younger Bishop, Olivia had to smile at the thought. At that moment, Peter looked up and saw her watching from the sidelines. Their eyes met for a fraction of a second, but Olivia promptly broke it, tearing her gaze away from the scene and turning instead to look down the quiet, empty alleyway to her left.

_Wait_.

The alley wasn't exactly empty. Olivia blinked to make sure it wasn't a trick of the light. Sure enough, a lone figure stood at the end of the narrow street only a hundred yards away. The only way that Olivia noticed him was because the red brick of the alley walls contrasted strongly against his black clothes…

_He was right there._

Like she was in a haze, Olivia took a step towards the man, then another, and another, her speed increasing rapidly with each additional step until she was running at a break-neck pace. The dark man noticed her and took off, but it only enticed Olivia and made her feet pound even harder against the concrete. All of her concentration was focused on the black-clad runner. He rounded a corner as the alley swung to the right and Olivia pushed her legs to go faster. The corner was less then fifty yards away – she was gaining on him.

"_Olivia!_"

Someone grabbed her arm from behind and she spun to face whoever it was, even though she had a pretty good guess.

One Peter Bishop glowered down at her. That was a no-brainer, considering how protective he had been acting.

"Damn it, Peter, let go!" Olivia wrestled her arm free of his grasp and tried to run again, but Peter was quicker and had her pinned between him and the wall faster than she could react. No matter how she tried to free herself, Peter wouldn't release her.

"It's bad enough to tell me how to do my job, but physically restraining me so that I _can't_ do my job? You are so far out of line, Peter!"

"Doing things your way is going to get you killed," he growled, enunciating each word carefully. The more she tried to get away, the harder Peter fought back until he was pressed against the length of her body, one leg even sandwiched between hers to hold her in place.

Olivia felt her face redden, realizing that their current position could be perceived as something very differently than what it was by a bystander. Impatient to resume the chase, and seeing no other way out, Olivia tried another approach. "I have a suspect to catch. By detaining me, you are interfering with a federal investigation. I think you've heard me use that threat enough times before to know what some of the repercussions are."

Peter seemed to be mentally fighting with himself over the issue, but she felt his grip waver and, seizing the opportunity, broke free and resumed her sprint, both to get to the suspect and away from Peter.

Olivia reached the corner in record time and, without stopping, pulled out her gun, hugged the wall and spun to face… nothing. The turn resulted in a dead end, surrounded on all sides by apartment buildings. She scanned the fire escapes. Nothing. The alley was dead. Not even a breeze blew through it. There was no possible way that someone could have gotten out of this square in the time that their guy had. There wasn't even a lonely dumpster that could have been used as a hiding spot.

"Damn…" she swore, continuing to look around the apartments that towered above her for some kind of explanation. She shook her head to clear it. A faint buzzing noise was thrumming in her eardrums as, she suspected, a result of sprinting in the chilly air. Olivia shook her head again. Still, the buzzing persisted and intensified. Refusing to pocket her gun, Olivia clamped one hand over her ear and whirled around on the spot, trying to find the source of the noise. There was no way that this could be a result of her quick chase. It was just so loud, like something was rapidly gathering momentum or energy…

Suddenly, someone slammed into her from behind and the force threw them both to the ground, pinning Olivia.

_Peter_.

She opened her mouth, speechless, but a sudden explosion behind them made her automatically duck for cover into Peter's coat, while his body shielded hers. The sheer force of the explosion threw them both backwards. Olivia clung to Peter as they rolled while debris and dust raining down everywhere. They came to a stop, both panting; Olivia was still beneath him, but no longer completely pinned.

"Shit…" Peter breathed, looking to the source of the blast, and Olivia followed his gaze.

A massive crater, at least five feet in diameter, perforated the roadway, and cracks where the stone and cement had undergone too much stress snaked outwards from the crater like tendrils. Pieces of the street had been thrown every which way, one of which had missed their heads by a couple inches. As the dust began to clear, Olivia saw the silhouette of a man standing in the center of it all. Gun still in hand, Olivia flipped over so that she was no longer on her back and fired three rounds at the center of the cloud. She wasn't sure if she'd hit something, but a with a whoosh of air, whoever (or whatever) was in the crater rocketed straight up from it, moving so fast it was nothing but a blur, into the air, and disappeared into the clouds above.

They both lay there for a minute, each trying to comprehend what exactly had just happened. Peter was the one who eventually broke the silence.

"What the hell is wrong with you, Olivia?"

She stared back up at him defensively, jaw set. "I saw the guy, Peter. And I would have been able to catch him if you hadn't – "

"Jesus, Olivia! Even after I gave you that whole speech about calling for backup. Half of our branch was out there, literally right beside you! The least you could have done was alert someone, anyone, especially since you had the time to get a bulletproof vest…"

Olivia swallowed hard, saying nothing, but knowing that Peter would eventually figure it out. He caught her expression and she knew in an instant that she'd just betrayed herself. Peter's hands were suddenly on her chest, feeling through her coat. Almost frantically, he ripped it open to reveal her white blouse.

"No, no, no, 'Livia…" he murmured as his hands feverishly felt their way up her torso. Olivia was breathless and bewildered, fighting the growing fever that broke under her skin as Peter touched more and more of her.

"Peter, what…?" she said quietly, her breaths coming in shallow gasps. He ignored her and continued to feel her up, looking for a trace of any kind of protective gear. When his hands accidentally landed on two locations that were, in his books, far out of bounds, Olivia released an audible gasp. Peter's cheeks burned just as red as Olivia's and he quickly relocated his hands further north.

A moment later, he moved off her body, sitting down on the pavement alongside her, silent and withdrawn. Olivia pulled herself up to a sitting position beside him.

"You didn't wear any," he finally said, voice thick with what Olivia guessed was anger. Peter refused to look at her, first focusing on a piece of rubble, then on a particularly dust-coated patch of his jacket, then a spot of gold underneath a rock that, when he pulled it out, revealed itself to be a plain gold ring. Peter rolled it around in in fingers while musing out loud. "Are you mental? Delusional? Above caring for your own life?"

Now he looked up at her and Olivia felt sick. She had been wrong – there was no anger in his voice, only pain. Pain for her, and great disappointment.

"I'm just trying – "

"To do your job, I know," Peter snapped back. "Your job can be your life, Olivia, but you seem to want it to take your life away from you as well."

He nodded towards the crater and Olivia caught his message. She had been standing in that very spot seconds before Peter had slammed into her and… whatever... whoever... that was had created the hole.

Peter had just saved her life.

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_Sooooo?_

_still thinking you're gonna keep reading? let me know!!! reviews are really quite pretty, and a great way to make my day... :D_


	4. Chapter 4

_ok, so maybe this update came a bit later than the others, but i'm still doing pretty good by my past standards at least!_

_as always, i own nothing, i'm just borrowing the fringey world for a little while :)_

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Sirens blared and tires screamed as a police car and Broyles' SUV poured out of the small alley into the dead end zone. Olivia felt a hand under her arm and allowed Peter to half help her up, but quickly shook him off as her boss approached.

"You two alright?"

"Yes, sir," Olivia answered for the both of them quickly, already making her way over to the crater to investigate. In doing so, she missed the questioning look that passed from Broyles to Peter that Peter only returned with a small shrug.

"Look at this…" she beckoned them over to the hole's craggy edge and pointed into the center of the puncture.

There, smack-dab in the deepest part of the hole was an indentation of a pair of feet.

"It seems to be the epicenter of the force that caused this," she stated, squatting down to get a better look.

"Guess we really are dealing with a kryptonian," Peter commented, grinning slyly when Olivia looked up at him, unable to understand why he was still cracking jokes here, especially after everything they'd been through, recent fights and deathly explosions included. "Any ways," he continued, "If it really was our guy who caused this, that would explain both how he can get away from a crime scene without leaving any footprints, and why I found this after the blast," Peter held up the small gold ring Olivia had seen him pick out from under the rubble. "I'm guessing he got a bit messy with his prizes when good agent Dunham here started chasing him down." A meaningful glance that said 'don't think I've forgotten about our little chat' was sent her way before he resumed voicing his theory. "Then, I'd guess that he knew he could lead Olivia to this dead end, take her out himself, and no one would know what had happened because he'd be long gone before anyone got here. If the guy can fly, then we're a bit out of our league, even if he is turning into a bit of a careless criminal."

Olivia immediately laid her gaze on Broyles, interested to see how he took the information. His finely chiseled features were calm as ever, and he actually nodded in agreement.

"Bishop, as wild as that story sounds, there may be some truth behind it, based on what I've seen here. You two," he gestured to Peter and Olivia with a nod of his head, "see what you can dig up from this site. Every time he makes a splash, we get a little more information. Hopefully, since this last event was, as you say, hastily put together, he might've slipped and forgotten something that could be of use to us. Oh, and Bishop," Broyles added, "Your father is very eager to see you. He wanted to make sure that you were all right after the blast but our cars blocked up the alleyway. I had to promise him that I would tell you to find him right away."

"Ok, thanks," Peter nodded and ran off, catching a ride in the police cruiser as it began to back out of the dead end and towards the original crime scene.

Olivia was left to do what she did best – put the clues together, no distractions, no interferences. Just her and the evidence left together to try and outwit each other, each trying to make the other break. It was something that she could get lost in. With all the Peter-related thoughts floating through her head, she really could use the distraction to clear her head for a little while.

X

When Peter finally returned with a very happy-looking Walter, Olivia was still poking around the site, looking for something, anything that could reveal more about the 'kryptonian' as Peter had called him.

"Olivia!" Walter hailed her as he and Peter approached.

"Hi, Walter," she replied distractedly, eyes never leaving the crater, ignoring the forensics team that had just arrived and were doing their best to set up their equipment around her. Walter didn't seem to notice her lack of interest and was already off talking to the forensic personnel. Judging from their facial expressions, the scientist had dove head first into his vast pool of knowledge and the conversation was already way over their heads.

"Just out of curiosity," Peter said, crouching on the edge of the hole as Olivia climbed down into it. "Have you eaten anything today?"

"No."

"Don't you think you should?"

"Not really, I'm kind of busy now Peter."

"Did it occur to you that you're not finding anything because you haven't eaten anything all day and you're brain's not firing on all cylinders?"

Olivia froze. He knew how to get to her. After forcing herself to take one, slow breath, she turned around and pretended not to notice the side-glances that their conversation was beginning to draw from the forensic squad.

"Did it occur to _you_ that I'll eat something when I'm hungry and when I'm not in the middle of investigating a crime scene?" That was only half true, she thought. Her stomach had been growling for the last half hour and all she could do now was hope and pray that it didn't betray her.

Peter's knowing smile never faltered. "Well, considering how you owe me since I just saved you from being crushed under those footprints," he waved a hand at the center of the hole, "then I think that you can start repaying me by letting me take you to go get a late lunch."

Now more than a few forensics were listening in after the conversation had, as Olivia saw it, taken a turn for the worst.

"Peter," she hissed, "this is _not_ the time or the place, ok?" Her pitiful attempt to speak quietly only emphasized the fact that she didn't want to be heard.

"Yes, it is. Walter's happy to take over for ya, aren't you Walter?"

The scientist glanced around at the sound of his name. "Yes, Peter, yes to whatever you just said… oh for God's sake, man, be more careful with that footprint, that is precious evidence you are contaminating!" The young forensic guy he was yelling at mumbled a quick 'I'm sorry' and continued his work even more diligently than before, even if he looked twice as pale as normal.

"See?" Peter grinned. Olivia only frowned at him and was about to turn away, but he reached down and caught her hand in his. "Please, let me do this for you."

She had to stop. His hand was warm on her skin that had been chilled by the bite of early winter winds. The feeling spread up her arm and filled her body, all the way down to her toes the way a hot drink would warm her up on a cold winter day.

"Fine, but not for too long," she said, finally caving in. The young man beside her was hard at work but could have sworn that he snickered at her acceptance. "Walter, make sure you get a good mold on those boot marks!"

"Yes, yes I will agent Dunham, enjoy your date," Walter waved his hand absent-mindedly at their departure, ignoring them for the most part, but that last comment had pretty much every head on the scene turning towards where Peter and a distraught Olivia now stood on the lip of the crater.

Peter still had her hand in his.

Olivia quickly removed it; again, her actions only resulted in drawing more attention to herself and Peter.

"God, Walter, how many times do I have to tell you…" he sighed and shook his head. "Y'know what? Never mind." When he was sure that no one was looking directly at them, Peter murmured, "Walter and I will have a long talk about this later," under his breath, and they strode off.

Olivia just nodded and thanked whatever powers-that-be that had decided to make it a chilly day; her rosy red cheeks were a product of more than just the nippy air.

* * *

_Welllllll?_

_You know how much i wanna hear what you guys have to say! :)_

_oh, and happy december to you all!! the holidays have started.... :D_


	5. Chapter 5

_This wasn't a quick update, and I'm terribly sorry about that folks. It's been a busy week for moi :P Well, here's the next instalment, and who knows? I might be able to squeeze in one more before christmas.... ;)_

_As always, I own nothing here. i wish, but no. my brain might explode if i was in charge of the fringe world._

* * *

The small café was a little crowded with people on their lunch break, but Olivia guessed that she and Peter could squeeze in.

"After you," Peter smiled and stepped back for her to enter the chaos first.

A small smile was her reply.

They got into line and Olivia realized that it was even more packed inside the small building than it appeared to be from the street. She stepped in line behind a tall guy, awkwardly trying not to let herself get crushed into his back, but with this many people in so little a space, it was nearly impossible.

"Tell me again why you picked this exact place for lunch?" Olivia tossed the question to Peter over her shoulder, unable to even turn and face him as more people packed into the line.

"Because this place has the best sub sandwiches in Boston."

"Oh, really?" Olivia replied, if a little sarcastically. It had occurred to her that Peter was just as tightly squished in behind her as she was; any closer and he would be melded right up against her back.

"And they make some killer coffees, not that you're deprived of the stuff at all," he added with what Olivia was sure was a smirk on his handsome face.

_Handsome face?_ Was she really _that_ sleep deprived? Or even food deprived?

"Not really…" she agreed and took a step forward as the line inched forwards. One glance at her watch showed that it was already one o'clock. "Peter, maybe we should go somewhere else, or – "

"Olivia." A pair of hands placed themselves on her shoulders and gave her a sharp squeeze. "You won't be late. Broyles will tell you if there's something you need to be there for, and if that happens, then we're out of here right away. Promise. I won't intentionally interfere with your investigations again."

Olivia tensed up. She had almost forgotten that she and Peter were in a fight until now… so did that mean that they weren't fighting anymore? Nothing had been concluded, no 'I'm sorry' with an 'I'm sorry too' or 'it was all my fault' and even a 'don't be ridiculous, I was the idiot'. Was this Peter's way of making it up to her?

Movement from Peter's hands snapped her out of her thoughts and back to reality – that she and Peter were being crushed together. For the second time that day.

"You're really tense, Olivia. Loosen up a bit why don't you? Try to forget about the case for a moment and just think about that amazing sandwich that's waiting for you, one that doesn't have the possibility of being infested with one of Walter's experiments…" Peter spoke while massaging her shoulders and upper back.

Olivia involuntarily smiled at the mention of a crazy experiment; she just had to. It was only too true! And it didn't help that her free massage felt so soothing on her sore back muscles that had been slammed into brick walls, thrown down into pavement, and generally overworked. The line moved again, but this time from the front. The storeowner seemed to be trying to organize the line a bit more, but the line itself had to back up several paces for the new snaking pattern around the stools and tables to work. Half stumbling and half shuffling backwards, Olivia found herself stepping repeatedly on Peter's toes in her efforts to steer clear of the man in line before her.

"Sorry…" she muttered, feeling suddenly quite shy.

Peter had stopped giving her a massage when the line had started moving and didn't seem to know exactly where to put his hands; when there was so little open space, almost any position was awkward. When Olivia thought that he had finally resorted to letting them drop by his sides, she felt the slight pressure of two hands on her waist. He didn't hold her tightly at first, but then Peter pulled her back with more force and she stiffened.

"Peter, what the…?"

"Um, excuse me ma'am…" Olivia looked up to see a woman trying to escape the masses with her purchases and was attempting to squeeze in front of Olivia to reach the door.

"Oh, sorry," Olivia felt herself blush bright red. Peter had just been trying to help that woman get through the line. And here she was, thinking that he was doing…. She didn't even know how to finish that sentence.

"Sorry about that, Olivia," he spoke over her shoulder, lips brushing against her hair in the process. "Didn't mean to startle you."

"You didn't," came her quick reply, but perhaps too quickly, because Peter's mood seemed to shift. God only knew how Olivia was able to gleam that only by proximity and no visuals, because there really was no precise explanation. She just _felt_ it, almost as if it were by instinct.

"Judging by your reaction, then yes, I'd say that you were startled." Peter was teasing her now, endeavoring to get under her skin just enough to get an equally good-naturedly reaction out of her.

It was working.

Well, two could play this game.

"And what exactly was my reaction that you seem to be such an expert on?"

Peter shrugged against her back and she began to feel very hot, despite the chilling temperatures that drifted in from the open door, flooded with people waiting on their sandwiches. "Well, in the nearly two full years that I've known you, I've noticed that you have a few tells."

"Oh?"

"Yes," he chuckled and Olivia felt it on the back of her neck more than she actually heard it, "When you're uncomfortable you get incredibly rigid, like you did a moment ago… and like you're doing right now."

Now _that_ startled her more than the hands-on-hips act. There was no way that Peter could know that about her, none whatsoever. Granted, he was the kind of person who looked you over once and then retained everything learnt in that one glance, but at that moment, she honestly didn't feel stiff or constricted.

"Your back, Olivia. Relax your back muscles."

Even though the voice of caution was telling her to do everything in her power to resist, on a whim, Olivia decided to humor him. Focusing on her muscles, she forced each and every one to unwind and expel its tension. Her shoulders hunched forward slightly and she leaned backwards slightly to support herself. Peter braced her, his hands still resting on her waist.

"Feel better?"

"Mm-hmm," Olivia mumbled, stunned at this new discovery of actually relaxing her sore, tired, and soon-to-be-filled-with-lactic-acid-from-the-stress-of-the-day muscles.

"Your welcome for using me as your pillow," Peter laughed lightly, and Olivia hastily regained her posture.

"Thanks," she added, throwing a casual grin over her shoulder; the line was moving a bit faster now thanks to the new system, and there was slightly more elbow room.

X

"Ok, what's your verdict?"

Peter was watching her eagerly from the passenger seat of the wonderfully warm SUV as Olivia took a bite of the sandwich. Her eyes went wide as she curiously rolled the taste around on her tongue before swallowing.

"I'm impressed," she finally nodded. "This is pretty good."

Peter just laughed.

"What?"

"You got a little something right here…" Peter gestured to the corner of his own lip.

Olivia copied him, but her finger came back clean. "Did I get it?"

"No, it's still there," Peter chuckled.

She tried again, but the lack of a change of expression on Peter's face told her that she had achieved nothing.

"Here, let me get it," he said, reaching across the two precariously balanced coffee cups and gently using his thumb to swipe at a spot on her lower lip; Olivia could have sworn that she'd already covered that particular spot. Despite herself and the complete innocence of the situation, she found herself blushing.

Peter quickly redrew his hand. Olivia noticed that his face had reddened too, but it could have very well been from the cold wind that had pummeled them before they got to the safety of the car.

Thankfully, Olivia's phone rang at that precise moment.

"Dunham," she answered briskly.

"Hello? Hello Olivia? This is Walter Bishop…" the quality of the call was terribly crackly for some reason, like the caller was yelling into a speakerphone.

Olivia frowned, "Walter? Is that you?"

"Yes, could you please put my son on the line my dear?"

She nodded and handed her cell to Peter.

"Hey Walter," he greeted his father casually. A moment passed during which Olivia eyed him anxiously; Peter's eyes went wide as saucers. A grin appeared on his lips.

"Ok, we'll see you soon Walter, bye," Peter hung up the phone and turned to Olivia, grin still set firmly in place.

"So?" she asked, if a bit impatiently, "What was that about? Do we have something?"

Peter's eyebrows danced. "Oh, we _definitely_ have something."

Olivia returned the smile as her foot hit the gas pedal and the monster engine revved hungrily.

* * *

_A lil extra fluffy, but hopefully still a good read??_

_A lovely holiday prezzie would be to give me a review, it really would.... :D_


	6. Chapter 6

_Maybe my updating speed hasn't been up to par lately.... and i'm truly and utterly sorry. hopefully you'll forgive me soon...? :)_

_disclaimer: i don't own anything here, just playin with it, and especially not the science involved (hope i got all that stuff right!)_

* * *

The doors to the basement lab opened with a bang as Peter and Olivia burst in.

"What have we got, Walter?" Olivia called as she hurried down the concrete steps two at a time, Peter on her heels.

The scientist's head popped up amidst the clutter of machinery and he beckoned them both over, a mad grin plastered on his face.

"Oh it's quite exciting Olivia dear. Now," Walter began, clapping his hands together as they approached, "My dear, tell me what you think this is." He nodded to Olivia, who stepped only as close as she dared to the metal table. A quick glance behind her revealed Peter's amused grin; Walter had already explained his discovery to his son over the phone, and Peter had refused to fill her in, insisting that it would be better for her to see it (whatever 'it' was) for herself.

Peter winked at her and she turned her focus back to the table, conveniently hiding the light blush that was creeping up into her cheeks.

A clear glass container that contained a small fortune of jewelry was the object of interest on the table. Olivia frowned.

"Ok, someone talk to me; what does this mean?"

"Let me explain!" Walter nearly jumped up and down with excitement, but stopped abruptly. "That is, if Peter doesn't want to do the honors. He seems quite preoccupied with watching you watch the box."

Olivia glanced over her shoulder, eyebrow cocked accusingly. Peter's hand was on his face, but that couldn't hide his own blushing.

"Just… go for it, Walter. It's all yours," Peter sounded exhausted, and not in the mood to bicker with his father.

"Are you sure, son?"

"Yes."

"Really? Because I would have no problem with a slight change in…"

"_Yes_."

Walter shrugged. "Very well then."

He turned back to Olivia, who, despite enjoying the amusement she was gaining from watching the banter between father and son, was still eager to know what Walter had discovered.

"Now, you remember that Peter found this gold ring in the blast? Yes. Well, that forensics team of yours, as inexperienced as they are," he rolled his eyes in frustration, "managed to scrounge up these other artifacts from the rubble in the crater. At first, I thought that it was simply more trinkets of this capper's carelessness, but then by fluke, I happened to place them beside my Geiger counter. And can you believe it? They're all mildly radioactive! Isn't that exciting?"

"So if these are all radioactive, then would they have a kind of signature? Something that we can use to track our…" she glanced over at Peter and smiled, "… kryptonian?"

"Precisely!" Walter was bouncing on the balls of his feet with enthusiasm. "And just think – these items of jewelry were taken from his most recent burglary, so…"

"We had it confirmed with the woman who owns the house that was broken into, don't worry," Peter whispered in her ear before she could even open her mouth to question Walter on the matter.

"… given the short amount of time that these were exposed to this man's unknown source of radiation, they is still quite a substantial amount of residual radiation on them; therefore I believe that locating his radiation signature should be relatively easy to find, also given that the robberies have all taken place locally, then our search will be more like finding a milkshake in a haystack as opposed to a needle…"

"How long would that take to set up?" Olivia was already pulling out her cell to call Broyles.

"Give us half an hour," Peter grinned.

Olivia dialed and her boss answered the phone after only two rings.

"Dunham, what have you got?" His deep voice rumbled through the phone.

"A good lead, and a reason why we're going to need a strike team ready within the hour," she glanced at her watch, which read two twenty-five.

"And what lead would this be, agent?"

"Sir, we have a way to _track_ him," Olivia couldn't hide the smile in her voice.

"Good work. You've got your strike team, Dunham."

X

For the tenth time in the last minute, Olivia checked her watch.

_3:14 PM_

She glanced back up and tried to focus her attention on the warehouse that they had surrounded. The trail of the specific type of radiation was on the move and, based on its trajectory, they had done an extra sweep of the area and found an empty warehouse that was not only directly in the path of the moving object, but it also reeked of, as Peter had affectionately named it, 'kryptonium'.

Olivia was sitting in her SUV with Peter two blocks away from said warehouse, peering at it through her binoculars. Six other FBI vehicles were stationed similarly – close enough to see, but not enough to tip off their guy. They were waiting to raid the warehouse until he was trapped inside it; going in before he was secured within their perimeter would be the equivalent of holding up a big sign that said 'Federal Bureau of Investigation', complete with the bureau's crest, smack in the middle of the warehouse lot. All they needed was the go signal from any one of the seven locations that had a visual confirmation that he was indeed contained in the building, but based on the speed of the trail of kryptonium, they still had a few minutes to kill before the suspect in question arrived.

The waiting. It was what drove Olivia nuts and simultaneously wired her brain to be in the right mindset before a raid. Her bulletproof vest was already on, as was Peter's. She was prepared, but still her mind raced, dotting her consciousness with thoughts that she wiped away as soon as they came. Her mind needed to be clear so she could focus all of her energy on getting the guy.

"Hey," Peter said softly and she dropped her binoculars. "Remember to breathe," he raised his eyebrows meaningfully at her. "The feds don't need hotshot Olivia Dunham to pass out on them during an op."

"I'm breathing fine, Peter," she brushed off his comment and was about to resume her previous position – binoculars up and eyes glued to the building – but the sensation of Peter's hand on her neck made her freeze.

"You're pulse is racing, Olivia."

She turned back to face him, eyes wide and confused. "We're… we're about to storm into a building, Peter, of course it's a bit higher than usual." Olivia swallowed hard, thankful that she was able to formulate a response in the time that she did.

"Still," Peter persisted, "you should really try to bring down your blood pressure a little bit."

Before Olivia could do anything to prevent it, Peter's hands were on either side of her head and, just like earlier in her office, his thumbs began to work their slow, soothing circles on her temples. For a moment, she let the sensation calm her mind and body, forcing her breaths to become less rapid and shallow.

"Close your eyes," Peter's soft tone was dangerously convincing and, after a moment of hesitation, she obliged, letting her eyelids droop and releasing a small sigh.

Only a moment or so later, Olivia forced her eyes to open slowly, but her head was still resting comfortably against the seat's headrest. "Peter, I can't do this now, we're on the job…"

"It's ok, I'm done anyways. Did that help?" He smiled and released her temples from the binds of magic that had been in effect under his touch, a spark of triumph dancing in his eyes.

"Yeah," she replied, nodding and smiling shyly. "Thanks, Peter."

"Don't mention it." He fired her a wink.

Olivia took a deep breath before plowing on. "So… are we good now?"

Peter looked surprised by the turn in conversation. "Good?"

He seemed confused. Olivia shook her head, regretting having taken that leap of faith, especially when they were on the job. It was just something that was nagging at the fringes of her mind, and she couldn't seem to let it go. "Our fight. Are we… ok now? I was hoping we could put it behind us…"

Peter's brow creased and he seemed to be deeply considering the question. "I will if you will."

"So it's behind us?"

"I mean I will put it behind us, as long as you do. And by _that_, I mean that you are going to stop being a self-destructive idiot during ops."

The all-too familiar intense stare indicated that he meant business. Olivia meant it too.

"Define 'self-destructive idiot' for me," Olivia said bluntly, perfectly content to stare him down until Armageddon is she had to. Or until their perp showed up. Whichever one came first.

Peter shifted in his set to better face her head on. She copied likewise. "Alright, I'll cut you a deal," he said.

Olivia nodded, lips drawn into a tight line, leaning in for effect. "Shoot."

"You go in there today," he pointed sharply at the distant warehouse, "and you prove to me that you're not a suicidal robot, because you will not, I repeat, _will not_ run after any suspects without the cavalry of trigger-happy feds right behind you. Also, you will do a little thing called _thinking_ and use your head before you jump into something. If you follow these simple rules, then you will not get hurt or kidnapped. Or worse. And only _then_, yes, I will drop it."

It was a war of scrutinizing, piercing green stares. Olivia took the time to mull over Peter's offer, scanning for any loopholes.

"Fine. If I do this, then you don't get to ever yell at me again about me_ doing my job_." She added a little extra bite to each of the last three words, just to make sure that her point was very clear.

Peter held out his hand. "You've got yourself a deal."

She extended hers and grasped his tightly. "So do you."

They shook on it, but their hands remained joined, neither willing to let go first.

"You should get back to your binoculars," Peter nodded towards her lap where they lay, previously discarded.

"Probably." Olivia removed her hand from his swiftly and turned away before he could react, or before she could see his reaction. She wasn't sure which ended up being the real reason. Based on the fact that the hand that had been in Peter's a moment ago was a little sweaty, it was probably the latter of the two.

Olivia returned to her binoculars and was surprised to find that her mental state had improved; her mind was clearer than ever from both the massage and the fact that she'd gotten that load off her chest. A smile so small that it was barely noticeable graced her lips for a faction of a second before movement on the southeast side of the warehouse caught her attention. A figure had appeared, a figure clothed all in black.

"Got him," she breathed and reached for the radio without tearing her eyes away from the scene. "Suspect spotted on southeastern side of lot, heading towards the warehouse," she spoke into the radio. She paused, waiting for the man to enter the building. Olivia watched as he approached an old maintenance door on the eastern side of the warehouse, directly in her line of sight. The door closed behind him and she clicked the radio back on. "Suspect has entered the building through the maintenance door on the east side. All teams move in, I repeat _move in_."

Olivia fired up the engine and made a beeline to the warehouse's empty parking lot. Federal vehicles all screeched across the gravel-covered lot, a byproduct from lack of recent use.

Forty-some agents armed with bulletproof vests, guns and helmets poured out of the vehicles that were parked strategically; now the entire building was surrounded.

"Take this," Olivia handed a nine millimeter off to Peter as she pulled out her own gun. He nodded curtly and unhitched the safety. Their team advanced and entered the same way as the dark-clad figure. A long, dimly lit hallway greeted them, the hanging fluorescent lights flickering at random intervals. A few doors led off the main hall, all of which turned out to house nothing more than broom closets and cleaning supplies gone bad, and electrical panels. The main passageway turned sharply to the left, and the team followed it into the body of the building. Ceilings high enough to house seven-forty-seven aircrafts made each step taken by the team echo and rebound off the crude metal structure.

Olivia's gun had remained raised from the moment they'd entered the maintenance door. Her grip on the cool metal only tightened as they made their way into the open space, constantly in motion and systematically securing all of the exits. The hanger-sized room was completely empty.

Peter came up beside her. "Brought this," he whispered, holding up a Geiger counter while pocketing his gun in his jeans.

Olivia smiled. "Turn it on, we'll need it if we're going to find him."

"Way ahead of you…" Peter walked a few paces forward, stopped, turned to the far side of the room, and continued in that direction. "This way!"

Olivia motioned to the team and they hurried after Peter. Olivia caught up with him and put herself at the front of the convoy to protect Peter while he worked. The Geiger counter led them across the empty room and into another small hallway on the opposite side. However, this one branched of into three paths.

"Peter?"

"Go straight…" He said, carefully studying the small machine.

Not more than fifty feet down the hall not unlike the ones on the opposite side of the complex, Olivia froze. A door about twenty feet away wasn't closed fully. Narrow shafts of light seeped under the door and spilled into the hall.

The team surrounded the door. Olivia listened hard, but no voices reached her ears, or any sound of any kind for that matter. She made eye contact with Peter, who confirmed that the Geiger counter was going crazy.

Olivia mouthed the words clearly, "_One… two… three, go!_"

The small contingent of agents rushed into the room, guns ready, scanning their surroundings. An old wooden desk in the center of the room with a small desk light was the only thing in the box-shaped room, save for a small, grimy window opposite the door. It was what was on the table that intrigued Olivia; a piece of paper with a list of prices hastily scribbled with a total: three thousand, five hundred and eighty-five dollars and thirteen cents, and a big 'x' beside it; a pencil; and a canvas drawstring bag that was closed but appeared to be filled with something. Olivia used the barrel of her gun to gently pry it open, and her eyes went wide.

"Peter… look."

Peter came closer and peered over her shoulder. "Whoa…" he breathed.

For there, glowing and shining in the lamplight, was a whole bag full of various and assorted household valuables, from actual _silver_ware to pearl necklaces to gold rosaries.

"Jackpot," Peter grinned.

"I'm not so sure." Olivia's brow creased like it always did when she was unsettled.

Of course, the change in her demeanor didn't slip by Peter. "What's wrong?"

"If he heard us coming and ran off, then we would have seen or heard something; this place is not only under surveillance but guarded on all sides. Also, if he was going to run, then why leave without his prizes?"

The words had barely left Olivia's mouth when the door slammed shut. They spun to face the door as agents swarmed towards it, guns at the ready even before they busted it down.

"It's locked!" One man shouted after attempting to turn the handle and shove with his shoulder. The door was at least an inch thick with metal, and they did not have the adequate equipment to ram it down. Up against that kind of barrier, substituting body parts for a battering ram was out of the question.

"This is wrong." Peter's voice echoed the exact thoughts that were flashing through Olivia's mind. "This isn't right – "

The shrill sound of shattering glass interrupted Peter as something was chucked through the window, sending thin and deadly shards flying across the room. Olivia grabbed Peter and ducked away from the projectile shards behind the table. A metallic canister rolled past her and Peter.

_Oh shit… _

Before she or any of the other agents could react, the canister exploded, releasing a cloudy gas into the air.

"Hold your breath!" she hissed at Peter, but it was pointless. The smoke was already making her eyes, nose and throat burn terribly. Coughing and gagging sounds filled the room in a matter of seconds. Olivia scrambled frantically for her radio, but all she could do was croak into it. Darkness crept slowly into her vision like a threatening cloud until she was nearly blind and fighting to remain conscious, but it was a battle she'd already lost. Turning her head from where she lay on the cold, hard floor to face Peter was a slow, laboring process. He was no better off than she, just as much a hostage to the sickly air, and barely hanging onto the edge of consciousness. Their eyes met, and Olivia tried to say something, but the words died before they even reached her lips. A shadow moved amidst the smoky air, and the last thing Olivia saw was the hazy shadow of a man standing over her before the power of the gas became too great and she slipped into oblivion.

* * *

_Aaaaaaaand? (drumroll)_

_surprised? well, i've got good news, mis amigos - my writer's block for this one is officially gone and i have the rest of the fic pretty much planned out. now just to write it all down!_


	7. Chapter 7

_Alrightyoo, here's chapter 7! a little more is revealed, but not much... yet...! we have ourselves a little more angst in this one._

_Disclaimer: i own nothing. zilch. zip. nada. just my fringie love :)_

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Peter regained conscious with a gasp, which was quickly succeeded by numerous coughs until his lungs were cleared. Eyes fuzzy and out of focus, Peter blinked until his vision returned, and sat up slowly.

He was seated on the incredibly uncomfortable floor of that tiny room. Shattered glass from the window would have been invisible had it not glimmered in the pale sunlight now coming through said window. Other agents from their team were beginning to wake up as well; stifled coughing and sputtering filled the room. Another team seemed to have found them; the door that had locked them in had been blown off its hinges and several fully-conscious agents were moving from victim to victim to make sure that they were alright. Peter distantly heard one of the calling for a medical team, but his hearing was taking its own sweet time to come around.

"Olivia?" he coughed again, finding speech more difficult than breathing. "Olivia…"

He looked beside him where he'd last glimpsed her fighting the knockout gas before it had taken them both. He frowned at the empty floor space not only beside him, but also all around him. Using the desk as support, Peter hoisted himself up and, after nodding to a nearby agent to explain that he was fine, took a thorough scan of the room. No Olivia. She must have just woken up too. Peter tapped an agent on the shoulder.

"Yes, Mr. Bishop?"

"Have you seen Olivia, er, Agent Dunham?"

The young man shook his head. "We got here just less than five minutes ago, and we've seen no sign of her, I'm sorry."

"What do you mean you _haven't seen her?_ This entire place is under insanely strict FBI surveillance, and you're telling me that no one knows where she is?" At the slightly scared look on the agent's face, Peter sighed, rubbing his eyes. "Sorry, man, could you just… just…."

"Let me check, one moment," the man nodded understandingly and pulled out his radio. "This is unit two. Does any one have a twenty on Dunham?"

Silence, save for the signature crackle of radio static.

"I repeat," the agent began again with more urgency in his voice this time, "who's got Dunham?"

Peter waited with baited breath, but the only reply was from Broyles, and he didn't sound much happier than Peter felt.

"This is Broyles. Are you telling me that Dunham's gone?"

"She's not with her team sir."

"Don't tell me that was part of the team that got hit," Broyles' voice grew deep and threatening.

"Yes, sir, she was," the poor young man nearly trembled as he answered his boss.

Peter sat down on the edge of the desk and ran his hands through his hair, panic rising inside of him like nausea. Broyles was barking out new orders but Peter hardy paid attention to them. The nausea was growing inside him like he might actually vomit. The knowledge that something had gone wrong, and that Olivia was now gone, had manifested inside him like a super strong batch of hydrochloric acid, and the worst part? He hadn't been able to do anything to prevent it from happening.

X

_Ouch_.

A dull throbbing was the only thing that she could register, at first. Then the world slowly came into focus as the rest of her senses came online. Her lungs were clear of the gas, but she was still stuck on the floor. She tried to move, but a sharp pain in her ankles and wrists prohibited her. A hiss of pain escaped her lips, and she blinked furiously, wondering why her vision hadn't returned. Her eyelashes met rough fabric and confusion quickly turned to a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. A quick systems check confirmed her fears. The pain in her ankles and wrists was due to some incredibly rough bindings; the lack of vision, a blindfold; the chill on one side of her body, a hard, concrete floor; and the bitter taste in her mouth was a gag.

Olivia's last memory before blacking out was of Peter… oh God, was he here too? She hoped with all her heart that he wasn't.

_Damn gag_, she cussed silently. She wanted to cry out for Peter, but the gag was tight and she couldn't do so much as a muffled moan. Instead, she tried to shuffle across the floor in her bindings but that proved pointless too. Olivia discovered that not only were her wrists bound, but they had been tied behind a metal pole of sorts. She squirmed viciously on the cold, grimy floor, and the only things she gained were sore wrists and a heaving chest from the effort. The air quality was different here, but then again, where was here? She had no way of knowing whether or not she was still at the warehouse, or somewhere completely different. There hadn't been a metal post in the room she'd passed out in….

Despair awakened inside of her, but she pushed it back. They would find her, wherever she was. Peter would come for her.

X

"Then why the hell aren't we doing anything to change that?!" Peter all but yelled at an agent who was trying to kindly inform him that their most recent radiation scans hadn't revealed anything new.

"We've been trying to widen the search, but so far our only hotspots are the locations where we already know he's been."

"So search those again!"

The agent sighed, getting exasperated. "We _have_, Mr. Bishop. Our teams have looked once, even twice, over every inch of those four locations – the three robbery sites, and the warehouse. This radiation seems to take a long time to fade away, and the four places he's been are crawling with it. As of," he checked his watch, "about eight hours ago, each and every one of those buildings has been under some of the tightest around the clock FBI surveillance I've ever seen."

Peter shook his head stubbornly. "What about the warehouse? That place is huge! You're telling me that you've checked every nook and cranny of that entire compound?"

"Yes, Mr. Bishop," the agent replied, trying to keep his voice even. "We've been looking over blueprints, using Geiger counters, everything we can think of. There's no one in that warehouse."

Peter slammed his fist on the table beside him, making everyone in that area of the Boston Federal Building jump. He walked up to the man so that they were about a foot away. "I don't know if you've been told this," Peter said in a low, but dangerously quiet voice, "but we have evidence that her kidnaper can _fly_. That's right, you heard me," he added at the man's confounded expression. "So if he can fly like fucking _Superman_, then I'd hope that we were alerting other offices to look for this radiation signature. If he can fly," Peter took a breath, trying to calm himself down, but only succeeded in intimidating the agent. "Then she could be _anywhere_."

"Bishop!"

Peter wheeled around to see Broyles watching the ongoing investigation from the walkway around his glass-enclosed office. However, now his piercing gaze was focused in all its intensity on Peter. Broyles very subtly inclined his head back towards his office, indicating that Peter should follow, and disappeared inside it.

With an annoyed huff, Peter stormed out of the cloud of federal agents, all of who were watching him out of the corner of the eyes after making such a scene. Seconds later, he was inside Broyles' office and no less angry.

"Sit down, Mr. Bishop," Broyles' steely voice came from the chair on the other side of the immensely polished wooden desk.

Peter nodded curtly and dropped himself down in the chair across from the desk, but found that sitting still wasn't easy on his rattled nerves.

"Take a look down there," Broyles gestured to the room full of busy agents below. "Those people are all trying their best to locate Agent Dunham. Therefore it is not acceptable for you to go storming in there, make a scene in a working environment, and tell them exactly how you think they aren't doing their jobs."

Peter opened his mouth to protest, but Broyles stood, silencing him with that one, simple action. "These people? I've hired each and every one of them specially. Pick any one agent down there – I can assure you that they wouldn't be here unless I had personally approved their employment in this office. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, sir," Peter said through gritted teeth.

Broyles sat back down, and his demeanor changed. Normally harsh eyes turned soft, almost compassionate, regarded Peter. "You're not the only one who wants to see Agent Dunham safely back home as soon as is humanly possible."

"I see that. I'm sorry," Peter apologized, feeling some of his anger ebb away.

"Your anger and determination to find her is to be expected, Bishop, but you have to learn to control it and turn it into something that will benefit the investigation."

Peter nodded.

Broyles rested his clasped hands on the desk, leaning forward slightly. "You have to learn to push all personal feelings aside. They can be useful to drive your resolve, but you have to be careful that they don't spin out of control, like yours just did. I know you care strongly for her, but –"

"Of course I do, she's my friend! _Sir_," Peter added hastily at the look Broyles gave him.

"I never said you weren't," Broyles said with a twinge of annoyance, "but whatever you feel for Agent Dunham, I suggest you either pack it away or put it to good use. Now," Broyles glanced down at his watch, "it's past midnight. You've been working for eight hours straight. You won't be any use to this investigation if you haven't slept, and I think we've already seen some of the effects a lack of sleep has on you."

Peter ran a hand through his hair and stayed quiet, unable to draw on any other energy to try arguing with. He stood and, after nodding once again to Broyles, exited the office.

Twenty minutes later, he was home. He dropped his coat on the corner of an empty moving box that still hadn't been disposed of. A note on the hall table with his name on it caught his attention.

_Peter,_

_This is your father, Walter Bishop. I have decided to stay at the lab tonight in hope that I will be able to find a way to find Olivia. Do not worry about me, I have the sofa, and I doubt that Gene would mind if I borrowed some of her hay if I happen to get chilly. Try to get some sleep tonight, son._

_Walter_

A hoarse laugh escaped Peter as he read. Walter must have been incredibly lucid when he wrote this.

Eventually, Peter collapsed into bed, exhausted. But when he closed his eyes, one image played over and over in his mind's eye. It was Olivia before they'd passed out from the knockout gas. Her expression haunted him. She looked so small and scared, it physically hurt him to think that he'd been right next to her and yet was unable to reach out to her. When sleep finally claimed his mind, it was Olivia's face that wove in and out of his troubled dreams.

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_How was that for a little drama? Intense?_

_Tell me whatcha think, and click on that perty green button!!!_


	8. Chapter 8

_Hello my beloved readers._

_If you don't feel like hearing my long-winded apology (I know I wouldn't, so I won't blame you), then skip this next bit. Regardless, I need do to apologize to you all. The last 3 weeks of my life have been absolutely 100% insane. The first week was spent literally 24/7 prepping for my trip to Australia (I know you're all thinking 'omg, Australia! Anna Torv and John Noble!'). I've been in Australia for the past 2 weeks, and it has been nothing short of stunning and wonderful! The only exception to that description is the technology. Apparently, technology hates me because I haven't been able to do sh** with my internet (including skype, facebook and email, my main links to the rest of the world) and my cell phone. It's been a long and frustrating last week while I've been working away at fixing all my lame tech (an honest 60% of that time was spent yelling at my computer screen and at my cell but it didn't exactly help my situation - just a way to vent). And finally, last night, I fixed internet and did the best happy dance I've done in a LONG time (then I finally got to watch the ep Jacksonville and that first happy dance was nothing in comparison :D). There is a silver lining to those 2 weeks internet-less: it gave me the time to plan out my fic, and type up and finalize a grand total of 3, nearly 4 additional chapters. If I may be so vain, I think y'all are in for a treat :) I'm awful proud of how this fic is turning out, and I hope you all are still hanging onto the bandwagon for this ride. Enjoy chapter 8 :)_

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_Bang_.

Olivia jumped awake, cursing silently as she did. The noise had startled her enough to aggravate her already uncomfortable position: on her side, lying down, hands wound around the metal pole at her back. Her jump had just caused her wrists to contort even further, and her flesh screamed in protest against the tight bonds.

She was still gagged and blinded, not that the ability to speak or see would in any way minimize the pain. A quick systems check said that her muscles weren't too fond of the way they were settled on the dirty, uneven, concrete floor either. Her throat and lungs burned and her mouth was desert-dry. Every inch of her body either ached horribly or was in some sort of immediate agony.

It wouldn't help her physically, but if Olivia could just see where she was, maybe guess what time of day it was based on any visible light, it might stop her mind from racing. Or perhaps just slow it down a little. Anything would be better than the unbearable mental state that she was now in.

A soft, barely audible murmur reached Olivia's ears, breaking into the deafening silence of her chaotic mind. So unexpected that she nearly jumped again, the voices were suddenly amplified and it was as if the speakers were directly beside her in the room. It was one hell of a time for her Cortexiphan-induced raptor hearing to kick in, but Olivia welcomed the opportunity to at last glean some insight into what was going on.

"… have everything ready in time. Shouldn't be hard for guy like you, right?" A deep, gruff voice asked. There was no immediate response, and the voice grew slightly threatening "Well? Is it that hard?"

"No, sir, it's not. The equipment will be here and set up as requested." A second man spoke; one whose voice did not waver or tremble, but Olivia could hear the underlying traces of fear beneath his words.

"Good. You know my boss don't like it when you fuck up, especially after what happened last time. You're on thin ice, man. Don't cause any more trouble for him, and he won't give you none. Got it?"

"Yes, sir. May I ask one thing?"

"Go on."

"Am I allowed to at least give her some water?

A harsh laugh made Olivia's insides squirm. "Only enough to keep her alive, he says. No more, understand?"

"Yes."

"We'll be around later. _Have it ready_."

_BANG._

Olivia winced. The slamming door, as she supposed that's what it was, rang a thousand times louder in her ears thanks to her acute hearing abilities. After the ringing dissipated, the silence resumed and Olivia was left to mull over what she'd learned. There was a dominant figure, and so far she knew who two of his accomplices were. One seemed to be in his inner circle, while the other was more of a business contract than a direct partner in crime. The second man also seemed a bit more empathetic. Olivia pocketed that piece of data for future use.

A click followed by another bang alerted her that someone else had definitely just entered her room, this time sans super hearing.

Her head snapped towards the direction of the noise and remained fixed there until two hands pulled her up off the floor into a general seated position.

"Now listen," the voice of the kinder man came from no more than a foot away from her face, "I don't want to hurt you. When I take off your gag to give you some water, you won't scream or yell, because then you will get hurt. And I don't think that you want that to happen either."

Olivia shook her head slowly right to left, 'no'.

The same hands reached around her head and gently undid the gag. As soon as it was off, Olivia ran her tongue over her cracked lips thirstily, trying to replenish some of the moisture before her lips started to bleed.

"Drink."

The neck of a bottle was held to her lips and Olivia took several gulps, as much as she could get in fear that he would cut her off.

"That's enough, now," the man said, removing the bottle from her lips. Olivia panted, not caring that water had dripped all down her front in her frenzy to rehydrate as quickly as possible.

"Thank you," Olivia said quietly, not putting much faith in her hoarse vocal chords.

No reply came, but the gag wasn't going back on yet either.

"What are you going to do to me when that man comes back?"

"You heard that conversation?" The man sounded surprised.

Olivia nodded, feeling a spark of triumph. She'd caught him off guard. "What are you going to do?" She felt the dirty strip of cloth on her lips again and recoiled slightly. Keeping her voice level and calm, she asked again before being silenced. "Please, just tell me."

"Don't struggle, don't you remember what we talked about?"

He had completely ignored her question, but the craving for information was overpowered by the need to maintain some kind of trust with this man. Olivia nodded again and shut up right away. If he was going to be her only ally, even if he wasn't even technically on her side, she had to make do. It was the only thing she had going for her.

The man finished retying the gag exactly as it was before. Without another word to her, Olivia heard him get up, open the door, and leave.

_Bang_.

X

Peter looked at the clock for the umpteenth time that morning. It was now nine thirty-nine and forty-five seconds as opposed to nine thirty-nine and twenty-eight seconds it'd been last time he'd glance up at the clock. The second hand ticked slowly by as Peter starred at this particular inner wall of the Boston Federal Building. But that wasn't the clock he was worried about. Swinging his gaze across the busy, agent-filled room to the right, Peter's eyes came to rest on the panel of red LED lights on the opposite wall that counted the seconds as they increased.

_16:40.11…_

_16:40.12…_

_16:40.13…_

It was the timer that had been started roughly around the time that Olivia had gone off their radar, and Peter could barely watch it throw away the seconds of Olivia's life, wherever she was. He also had a particular hatred for what it stood for. Peter may have been a guest in this hotel, but he'd been around long enough to know how things worked. There were time limits on people who go missing with little or no evidence, Federal Agents included. It was a pre-arranged time; one often disclosed from general knowledge until deemed a 'need to know', when the government would cease to fund their search. It was that clock that counted down the seconds to their victory.

Peter hated that clock.

X

Olivia was thirsty again, and she couldn't call out for more water for two reasons. The first being that she was unable to so much as mumble with her gag on; and second, if there was no gag, calling out would mean that whatever shard of trust she had instilled in her captor would be long gone as soon as she opened her mouth.

It didn't help that she was beginning to worry about what was going to happen when the gruff man's boss came, and it was killing her that time was passing without specifications or limitations. No hours or minutes that she could count, just one ongoing straight line.

Then her mind exploded with sound. Her hearing had heightened again at the signal of nearby noises. A group of people had entered the building, and their loud, numerous voices mixed with Olivia's ability overpowered her and only snippets of the conversation registered.

"… it's all here…"

"… water…"

"… how many? The equipment…"

"… need guns in a circle…"

"… where's his fucking money?!"

"… ready to show you…"

"… begin the process…"

"…when?"

"… now."

Olivia had her spine pressed right up against the pole as she tried to back away from the source of the noise, feeling sick from the power of it.

The door opened and bodies flooded into the room. Movement was all around her, so much that she couldn't spin her head around fast enough to keep track of it all. All ruthless, husky, merciless voices surrounded her, drowning her in their vastness, until the silence came again all too quickly. Silence, save for the sharp _ca-chink_ of a gun being loaded. And then came _his_ voice.

"Look at you…" The floor rumbled with the man's profound tenor tone. "You're even prettier than I thought you'd be…" A rough, calloused hand cupped her chin in a vice-like grasp. Olivia could feel him leaning towards her. His hot breath smothered her as he whispered dangerously in her ear. "_Perfect_."

He grabbed her blindfold and ripped it off with enough force to make her head snap back against the pole. A bright light blinded her, and Olivia looked away quickly. In doing so, she caught a split second glimpse of her surroundings, now highlighted by the light source. The room appeared to be in an old warehouse. The ceiling was very high and only one small row of windows at the very top of the wall allowed any light in the room, which wasn't too much considering that they were almost opaque with dirt and grime. But the room wasn't her concern, not any more. What really caught her attention was the semi-circle of guns that covered her from the sides and behind; guns that were all pointed directly at her head. Olivia was confused and still disoriented from the sudden appearance of the light, but one voice coming from behind the light, the voice of the kind man, cleared a few things up.

"We're rolling, sir."

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_I would be pushing it to presume that I'm forgiven, but if you did, and even if you didn't and would like to tell me so kindly ;), then please drop me a review. Next chapter already prep'd and ready to go - it'll be up mid-week._

_Hang in there gang, the plot will be further revealed shortly!!!_


	9. Chapter 9

_How's this for a quick and speedy update? :) This chapter is the one that explains a lot of the unexplained, but not all of it... that would be too boring! ;)_

_Hope y'all like it; and as always, I do not own Fringe... not in this universe at least :P_

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"We've got an incoming media stream, sir, it's in real-time!"

Peter looked up from where he and Broyles stood and saw a young agent waving them over to his computer.

"Can you trace it?" Broyles asked a moment later when he and Peter had arrived at the man's desk.

"Trying to, sir," the agent replied quickly. "Here, we've got video and audio."

The agent pressed a few keys and a slightly grainy video appeared on the screen, and what Peter saw sickened him to his very core.

Olivia was gagged and bound to a pole in a dark room, but the camera seemed to have a high-watt light bulb on it. Long shadows cast by the light gave the scene an eerie look. Ten burly men had her almost completely surrounded, all of whom were armed with guns, all of which were pointed directly at her head. Then another man stepped into the picture, and Peter's face went white.

"Now listen here, I'm gonna make this real simple for you," the man began, his deep voice catching the attention of almost everyone in the FBI room and alerting them to the presence of the incoming video. "I have something you want, you have something _I_ want. We make a trade fair and square, and you get your girlie back. But I've been a very patient man, you see, and this is the result of that patience having all but worn off. Here's the deal," he walked over to Olivia and crouched beside her. Peter almost smiled when he saw the venomous look she gave him. "You get me my eighty-five thousand dollars in twenty-four hours, or BANG!" – he pretended to shoot a gun at Olivia's temple, poking her harshly in the process – "and she's dead. I'm sending you all the information for the exchange through this transmission, but there are a few specifications I'd like to point out, just so we're _very_ clear. One," stood and held up a finger, "that you give me all the money in clean, hard cash. Two," he held up another finger, "I pick the exchange location. We'll be there at the scheduled time, no earlier, so don't think you can be cute and show up earlier and try to get her back sooner. And three," here he stopped and walked right up to the camera, and his voice grew dangerously low, "there will be no Feds at the exchange. None. The guy who's gonna make the exchange is Bishop. Peter Bishop." The man stepped back and Olivia was visible again. "All goes well, she won't end up dead, and I get what I rightfully own. And everyone's happy. You are now down to twenty-three hours and fifty-seven minutes." He nodded at two of the gunman, and one of them picked Olivia up off the floor while the other strode up to her and hit her cheek with the handle of his gun. Twice. She was unceremoniously dropped back down onto the floor where she slouched, blood seeping out from the edges of her gag. "I'd get cracking on getting me that money if I were you, or blondie here gets worse than a little beating."

Another nod, and the same two men approached her again, both of whom looked very happy, almost greedy. They both kicked at her ribs, her arms, and her face. There was no humor in the men's dry chuckles that could be made out over the sound of Olivia's muffled screams.

The man in charge grinned mercilessly. "That's enough now, boys." The two men looked put out, but they stepped away from Olivia and she slumped over on her side at an uncomfortable angle because of her bindings. The man turned back to the camera with an odd mix of smugness and cruelty smeared across his face. "That happens on the hour for every hour that you do not come charging to her rescue. It's just a little insurance of mine, and an incentive for you to jump the gun and find her ahead of schedule! You do that, and I'll make the exchange then and there as long as Bishop's the only knight in shining armor that shows up. But don't forget about the time limit! There's a reason I set a deadline. After twenty-four rounds of that?" He gestured to the crumpled heap on the floor that was Olivia with a frantic, almost eccentric flourish of his hand. "It just wouldn't be humane if I didn't." His forcedly pleasant smile made Peter's insides burn like they'd been dropped in acid.

"You now have…." He quickly checked his watch. "Exactly twenty-three hours and fifty-one minutes to get your shit together and get me my money. It's all on you now, Bishop." The man flashed the camera a deranged, evil grin and the screen went black.

"T-t-transmission lost, sir. I couldn't trace the source either," the young agent at the computer stuttered as a warning flashed 'SIGNAL LOST' in red letters across the screen. For a fraction of a second, no one in the room breathed. Time was suspended in the horrible aftershock of the violent ransom demand.

It was Broyles's voice that broke the spell. "I want everyone putting one hundred percent of their effort into this case, effective _now!_" People began scrambling for papers, telephones, whatever they needed to do their jobs. Broyles continued, "I want our top technicians analyzing every inch of that video and the information that was sent with it! I need some IDs on all of the men in that video. That means names, driver's licenses, social security numbers, criminal records, if they visit their grandmothers on a regular basis… everything!" He turned to Peter as the office room jumped to life and soon became a swirling vortex of agents as they literally ran from task to task. "Bishop," Broyles leaned towards him so that they wouldn't be overheard, not that that was too likely with so much noise around them. "I think we need to have a talk about what was said in that video."

Broyles inclined his head towards his office. There was no threat in his voice, only the ghosts of curiosity and concern. Apparently, he was still in a minor state of shock after receiving such grim news.

Peter nodded blankly and followed him across the floor, the full effect of the video still in play on his mind. The image of Olivia being horribly abused was fresh; new enough that the real pain was only beginning to seep in as the initial shock wore off. All he could see was the pain in Olivia's face as she was beaten, and her screams echoed in his head, haunting him from the inside out.

X

"_We're rolling, sir."_

Olivia remained sitting in the floor while the boss guy rambled on with a 'holier than thou' air about him. She shot him daggers when he pretended to 'shoot' her by shoving her – very hard – in the side of her head. Her ears perked up when he mentioned that she only had a day to live. They perked up even further when he mentioned Peter by name. It also seemed odd that the guy thought the money was 'rightfully his'. Olivia glared at him as he continued to blather on for the camera. That dirt bag didn't _rightfully own_ shit, much less a fraction of that eighty-five thousand.

"… _down to twenty-three hours and fifty-seven minutes."_

Olivia heard the tail end of what he was saying, and in no way did it prepare her for what was coming her way. Next thing she knew, a pair of strong, rough hands hoisted her up off the ground and she had barely began to struggle when another man swung his arm at her face. The cold metal of a gun handle came into contact with her cheekbone and she heard something crack. Blood filled her mouth and her face hurt like hell, and then another swing came. This time, the gun hit a little higher up on her face, finding the tender skin that was much closer to her eye. The hands suddenly let go and, with no dependent strength in her legs, she fell to the uneven concrete on her knees – hard. She tried to call the man a bastard with as much venom as she could muster, but it only made her gag grosser; the blood from her cheek wound had filled her mouth and had no where else to go when she attempted to talk.

"_I'd get cracking on getting me that money if I were you, or blondie here gets worse than a little beating."_

Olivia looked up when he stopped talking again and saw the same two men coming at her again. There was only one thing for her to do – brace herself for the onslaught. She bit back tears as hard shoes repeatedly beat her abdomen. A few blows hit her arms, slamming her forearms into the metal pole at her back. One shoe caught her on the chin and her head was flung to the side at whiplash speeds. The gag muffled her yells, but it also suffocated her. Olivia was in so much pain, but she couldn't take in enough air with the ragged cloth covering her mouth. She began to hyperventilate as another blow hit her square in the chest, knocking all the wind out of her. Now she really couldn't breathe, and slumped over on the ground. As the world began to blacken from lack of oxygen, the boss's voice called off the guards. Olivia nearly passed out then and there from sheer relief, but then she heard that more beatings were on the way. More of _that_ every hour. A sinking feeling in her gut told her that she might not last those twenty-four beatings no matter how _humane_ that sick bastard thought he was being.

Finally, the camera light was turned off and Olivia was ever more disoriented. A cold voice just above her ear said, "See you in fifty-one minutes, baby," just as her entire world went black.

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_Alrighteeo folks, talk to me! You know how much I love hearing your feedback :)_


	10. Chapter 10

_Hello all. Due to my crappy internet setup here in Auz, this is only going up now when i would have preferred it to be up nearly a week ago. Sorry about that! Anywho, I hope you enjoy this latest bit, you get a few answers......_

_As always i do not own anything fringe related._

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"Bishop, I need to know what all that was about."

Broyles sat at his desk, hands clasped on the desk before him. Peter was sitting white-faced in the opposite chair. His tongue was a lead weight in his mouth.

"How the hell does that man know your name and where you work? And who is he?"

Peter ran his hand through his hair like he always did when he was nervous or anxious. "He knows me… because I owe him money."

Broyles's eyebrows shot up in unison like timed rockets. "His claims were true?"

"Yes," Peter sighed. "The guy who has Olivia… it's Big Eddie. I have no idea how he knows where I am, but I can believe that it's true. He's got almost unlimited resources. This is what happens when I stay in one place for too long…" Silence reigned for a minute, only broken by the sound of Peter slamming his fist on the arm of the chair. "I never should have stayed, I knew that this could happen one day, but I never dreamed that he would go for..." Peter swallowed down the lump in his throat, hastily trying to conceal that he couldn't finish his sentence.

"Bishop, since you're our foremost expert on Big Eddie, I need your help to pick his brain. We need to know what his next move may be, if he's going to cross us, and his usual hangouts. As well, any names of people he's affiliated with. We can bring your father into this when we've got something tangible to work with, something that I expect to see very soon. But the question is, can you do this without letting your emotions take over?"

"Yes." Peter was stunned at his boss's calm exterior, but one glance to Broyles's eyes told Peter that he was just as furious.

"Good. We _will_ find her, Bishop. I'm not going to let the majority of those beatings fall on her."

"Whatever brings her back, sir."

A small smile lit up Broyles's face. "I knew I could count on you for this one in particular. It hits home for all of us, but for you even more so."

Peter looked up with a quizzical expression. Was Broyles suggesting what he thought he was?

The corner of Philip Broyles's mouth twitched ever so slightly. "Seeing that you have a strong connection with not only the victim but her captors as well."

"Right," Peter shook his head. Stress and anxiety had him on a short leash, and his brain was thinking things it shouldn't. "So," he began again, standing as he did so, "let's get started, we're wasting time."

For a moment, Peter was convinced that he had angered his boss by being so blunt, but Broyles nodded and rose as well. "I couldn't agree with you more."

X

Someone was gently pushing her hair back from her face, waking Olivia with a groggy start. She opened her eyes and tried to roll away from the touch, but a hand grabbed her gently yet forcefully by the shoulder.

"Shhhh, it's ok. You're alright now…"

Olivia couldn't see his face in the dim light as her eyes struggled to adjust.

"Peter?" She whispered hopefully. It took a moment for her to realize that she'd actually spoken coherently; her gag must have been removed.

"No, not Peter. Lay still," the voice chided her and she obliged all too happily, momentarily forgetting to care that it wasn't Peter after all. Olivia felt a cool cloth on her face as the man wiped away the blood and sweat that had dried in a crackly shell over her skin. She winced when he passed over certain areas, her left cheekbone, her chin, just below her eye, feeling the sharp sting of her bruises and the swelling that came with it.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly, noticing her winces.

Olivia mustered up as much strength as she could and made her dry, cracked lips move. "Why are you helping me?"

A small sigh, then, "I need to make sure that you're ok, and that you will be able to last a few more of those… assaults."

"You're making sure I'm not dead so that your boss can keep his _insurance_," she rephrased for him dryly.

No reply, just the sound of the cloth being dipped into a bucket of water, and the feeling of the cool liquid on her neck. Olivia's vision was improving by the minute, so she attempted to roll onto her back as much as she could while bound to get a better look at the man. She discovered that twisting her abdomen was a bad idea when piercing jolts of pain shot through her torso. A loan cry escaped her lips, and Olivia cursed herself for being so weak.

"I think you may have cracked a rib or two," the man said. His hands moved to her midriff. "May I have a look?"

Olivia barely nodded, now able to make out the figure of a man in black clothes and a black balaclava; she couldn't see his face, only the faint shimmer of his eyes. It was undoubtedly the kind man she had met earlier, that much she could tell for sure. His hands were both expert and gentle as they pulled her used-to-be-white blouse up to expose once pale skin now bruised black, blue, yellow, and every color in between.

"Tell me when it hurts," the kind man said, applying slight pressure to each of her ribs and noting when Olivia gave a grunt or moan of pain. "It looks like you've got three or four cracked ribs, and possibly just as many bruised ones." He sat back and pulled her shirt back down slowly to avoid grazing any of her wounds with a surprising amount of care. "But you're a strong one, you'll be alright."

Olivia shifted gingerly into a more comfortable position on her back. "It doesn't look like you enjoy working for your boss," she mused aloud.

"I never said I did," the kind man replied flatly.

"So why do you do it then? Did her bribe you? Blackmail you?" This wasn't the kind of interrogation that Olivia was used to, but it didn't feel like one either. Despite everything that had been done to her in the last hours, she did not want to hurt this man.

Initially, he did not reply but then he spoke quietly. "Let's just say that it was a combination of the two and leave it at that."

Olivia pressed on, hungry for information of any kind. "What did he promise you? Money? Safety?"

The man stood up abruptly. "If I were you, I'd save my strength. I don't have to tell you what's to come."

"Once he gets what he wants, he won't have any reason to reimburse you, or keep you around." Olivia grew frantic that she couldn't make him understand just how much danger he may very well be in. "Don't expect to get whatever he's been promising you!"

Olivia was panting from the effort of raising her voice. The man stopped with his hand on the handle of the door. He spoke without turning around. "That's a chance that I have to take," he paused and then said so quietly that she could barely hear, "You have thirty-two minutes left." And he slipped away without another word, leaving Olivia and the bucket of water alone in the gloomy light that seeped through the filthy windows high above her head.

"Shit," Olivia cussed quietly. She wanted so badly to know more about her situation, or she'd never be able to find a way out. But at least there was a video that had been sent to the Bureau, Peter in particular... she frowned. How did the boss know Peter? He'd said that he wanted his money, the money that was _rightfully_ _his_…. Then Olivia gasped, making all the muscles in her upper body scream in pain. Her mind was floating back to an early conversation she'd had with Peter as her brain began connecting the dots.

"_You owe money to a guy nicknamed 'Big Eddie'?"_

"_No, I owe money to a guy _named_ Big Eddie. He had it legally changed."_

Yes, she definitely knew who the boss was.

The door to the warehouse-sized room opened and Olivia looked up to see the kind man again. He was holding a long strip of cloth in his hand. She guessed he'd forgotten about her gag and blindfold.

"Wait, wait!" Olivia pleaded as he reached out to re-administer her gag. "I know who your boss is! I know because he's been after a friend of mine for a while, and I… I think it's why he has me," Olivia took a shaky breath before continuing; it was clear that she'd gotten the man's attention, "His name's Big Eddie, isn't it?"

The man's eyes, the only part of his features that Olivia could see, went wide for a moment before he was able to collect himself.

"My friend _will_ make the exchange with Big Eddie. Whether it's in twenty-three hours or less, he will make it. And then Eddie will be done with this job, and I'd guess that also means done with you. Why does he need you now? What does he keep you around for? You're obviously not like his other men." Olivia already had a good guess as to exactly who he was – many of the loose ends were beginning to come together with this breakthrough of information.

The man crouched down, hoisted her up into a sitting position, and held her shoulders firmly. "Listen to me, because I'm only going to say this once," he said; his voice was laced with mild traces of anger and annoyance, "lots of people have made deals with Big Eddie for different reasons because they saw no other alternative. I'm just another one of those poor bastards trying to get through life in one piece, but finds themselves in a situation where they know that getting out of it in two or three pieces would be asking for a lot, much less one solid one. Don't you dare think for one minute that I would be doing this if I had any other option!"

Olivia took a breath, feeling both intimidated and impressed by his resolve. "I understand," she said softly, "But please, just tell me what he's done to you. I _need_ to know what I'm up against."

The man's eyes were saddened by her words, she could tell. They were young eyes too – she guessed he was her age or even younger.

"Please, rest, you need your strength," he shook his head and looked away from her as he tied the gag. Olivia tried to meet his eyes, but he wouldn't even glance her way, and he didn't blindfold her either.

Only seconds later he was out the door, previously forgotten bucket in hand, speaking calmly and evenly over his shoulder as he exited, "Twenty-five minutes left."

* * *

_Alright, talk to me! you know how awesome reviews are and how they can just make a girl's day :D_


	11. Chapter 11

_Hullo all! Apologies, Australian tech seems to hate me... with a bloody passion._

_Please enjoy, and thank you all for sticking around to see the final chapters play out (yes, we are indeed getting there!)_

_You already know this, but I thought I'd remind you that I own nothing Fringey whatsoever._

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This time, she was ready.

When her door opened, she faced Big Eddie straight on, driving all of her hatred through the death stare that she radiated, empowering her. Venomous green eyes never left his, not when he ordered two men to lift her up off the floor, nor when he brushed a big, sausage-like finger across her bruised cheek. Even though the tender skin beneath his touch was screaming in agony, she did not flinch or succumb to her pain. Only when Big Eddie stepped back and nodded at a particularly large guy to take a swing at her did Olivia double over in agony. The man had a power behind his fist that could have been propelled by the engine of a small car, and she could only be thankful that his blow was poorly aimed and glanced off one of her lower ribs as opposed to the center of her gut. She resumed starring at Big Eddie a moment after she'd doubled over, eyes full of hatred. Olivia refused to back down from his stare; in fact, she challenged him to look her in the eye.

Another two swings, both of which glanced off her rib cage, and Olivia was beginning to think that this one wouldn't be so bad… and then her luck ran out. A fourth punch hit her right below where her left and right ribcages converged with enough force to make her gag. Nausea over came her and she retched, but she was only able dry heave, seeing as there was nothing in her stomach to throw up. It was a good thing that she didn't – her gag was still on. Olivia almost felt nauseous again at the thought of it.

The two men dropped her back onto the floor where she sat for a moment. Then slowly but surely, she raised her head to once again meet Big Eddie's stare. Pure loathing met savage and ruthless in a battle of vivid green and deadly dark brown. He crouched down to her level and just stared at her for a moment. It was a look of pity mixed with something like arrogant superiority that made Olivia want to retch again.

"Hang in there, honey," Big Eddie whispered, a sneer hidden in his words, again evoking a wave of nausea in Olivia's gut.

She stared Big Eddie down until he left the room, only breaking eye contact for a fraction of a moment to snarl at the thug who clipped her on the shoulder on his way out. The guy just laughed and feigned a jab to her side with his foot. Olivia flinched; he chuckled and said something to his buddy, making them both turn to laugh at her as the door shut behind them.

Olivia leaned her head back against the pole and closed her eyes. Hunger was a nasty beast that clawed at her insides having been roughly awoken by the one successful blow to her stomach. It drained her more than the physical injuries did, but not by much. The mere thought of another beating in an hour made her feel sick all over again. So for the next fifty-eight minutes, Olivia swayed on the edge of consciousness, never quite falling into the black void below her.

X

Peter drummed his fingers on the hardwood table in Olivia's office at the Federal Building. The motion was restless; his fingers tapped the surface of the polished wood in a frantic dance as he passed it before continuing to walk slowly around the room. He looked at the clock on the wall, an action that had become no less than second nature by now. It was nearly eleven in the morning. They were getting ever closer to the twenty-four hour mark.

Pushing the thought out of his head, Peter began another loop around the office, but decided against it and instead came to rest on the edge of the desk. A frown creased his brow, adding to the overall look of exhaustion that had engulfed him for the past eighteen hours. His thoughts were back at the four different locations that he and a team had scoured from top to bottom on search of Big Eddie. Between his own past knowledge of the guy and that of the Bureau's, they had been able to come up with twelve locations that could be used as his hangout, and Peter's team had gone to four of the twelve – a dingy auto shop, the parking garage of an abandoned apartment building in Aberdeen, a back room in a long since abandoned bowling alley, and a motel room off the I-90. None of them had matched the room in the background of the video message. Each of them had been a fail, a dud, a dead end, and it was killing Peter that they were already running out of options. He was trying to preoccupy himself while agents in the room down the hall were searching the Bureau mainframe for past known associates. Peter had almost laughed when one particularly young agent had told him what they were doing. "The problem with that," he'd said with a hint of hysteria in his voice, "is that Big Eddie doesn't like to leave trails. He cleans up his messes, and leaves nothing behind. No trail, no clues, nothing."

The young man whom Peter had addressed had gulped and quickly scurried off. Peter was still willing to bet that they'd run the most in-depth search that the power of twenty combined tech agents could, but it was almost pointless.

As if he'd been doing it for years, Peter's neck muscles automatically swerved his head back in the direction of the clock on the wall.

_11:01 AM_

A vivid image of Olivia getting kicked by one of Big Eddie's men assaulted his mind, accompanied by Eddie's voice itself, telling him that Olivia would suffer every hour on the hour. Knowing that she was abused somewhere far away and out of his reach was enough to make him go mad. That added to his frustration over the complexity of the case was nearly more than he could handle. Where was Eddie holding Olivia? How was their kryptonian involved with all of it? A smile that did not reach his eyes covered Peter's face for a moment as he remember how Olivia had scoffed at the idea of calling the perp a 'kryptonian'. A hard lump formed at the back of his throat, but somehow he managed to swallow it down.

X

It was silent, save for the sound of her own, ragged breaths. No gag – a small blessing. Something cool was being brushed against her forehead. Olivia opened her eyes and, through her slightly blurry and not-yet-adjusted vision, saw the kind man leaning over her with a bucket of water by his side. The rag on her forehead was wonderful, and Olivia was not shocked to see that it was stained red from her blood and grey from the dirt on her face. Without speaking, the man rinsed out the cloth and returned it to her face, smoothing the hair off her forehead as beads of water ran down her cheeks. Olivia didn't try to sit up. She just lay on the floor and hoped that the man would continue to tend to her.

"How many?" she whispered so softly she was amazed that the man had heard her at all.

"Five," he replied equally as quietly.

They fell into silence again and, for what felt long enough that Olivia began to worry that Big Eddie would burst in at any moment, neither said anything, and the man continued tending to Olivia.

"My son is eight years old," the kind man spoke suddenly, causing Olivia to open her eyes again. Though the man continued to dab at her cheek with the rag, he was deep in thought, for his eyes had glazed over to give him the appearance of a man who was looking but not really seeing what was before him. "He turns nine next month. His mother and I have been in debt for the last couple years, and then, after my accident, we've been… in a rut. We don't have enough money to keep three meals on the table every day, much less be able to buy Jason something for his birthday."

His voice broke at the mention of his son's name and he closed his eyes. Olivia listened quietly, feeling a deep swell of pity for the man's condition. An image of a small boy sitting at home without a present on his birthday jumped to the front of her mind and Olivia's heart throbbed. She imagined what it would feel like to not be financially stable enough to give Ella a birthday present, and her eyes stung.

"I used to work at a lab downtown, but my research was… dismal, to say the least. My partner pulled out of our project a few months before the accident. He said it was going up shit creek and I was obsessed." The man gave a dry chuckle that momentarily brought an image of Peter to Olivia's mind. The singing in her eyes increased.

"We… well, _I _had been trying to develop a way to harness the solar radiation that the human body absorbs and put it to good use, as opposed to giving you melanoma and other diseases. It was supposed to use the energy to human cells, strengthen biological systems, fix any damage in the body…. It was going to revolutionize the way we look at solar energy and it would be able to help thousands of people." His eyes were downcast looking at the dirty floor as his gentle hands wiped away the dust caked on Olivia's chin and neck. When Olivia made no sound to oppose him, he continued. "Naturally, the drug had to be tested before major companies would even consider investing in it. I was pressured for time. I was pressured for money. I was pressured for results. I thought I had no choice." His voice dropped and he sighed deeply. There was a lot of regret and sorrow hidden in that sigh that Olivia picked up on immediately, but she could do nothing to ease his pain.

"It didn't work," she said softly.

"No, it did. That was the problem," he replied quietly. "You must know who I am by now – you chased my down in an alley the other day, remember?" A ghost of a smile graced both their lips for a fraction of a second at the memory that seemed too far off to have happened only one day ago. "They serum gave me energy – too much of it, and in weird ways. I didn't expect it to alter my DNA like this. Even though it worked, the drug just wasn't ready. My lab was shut down; I lost my standing in the scientific world; and now I can't get the drug out of my system. As long as I get solar radiation, I stay Superman-like."

"Bet your son loved that," Olivia attempted a smile again, and the man returned it.

"Funny you should say that," he grinned, meeting her gaze for the first time since the conversation had started, "he made me a picture of our family, and I was Superman come to save the day with tax money, a new job… and a birthday present."

He placed the sopping rag in its bucket and pulled a folded sheet of paper out of his back pocket and held it up to Olivia. She genuinely smiled at the sight of the child's colorful drawing that tugged at her heartstrings.

The kind man folded up the paper carefully as if it were the world's greatest treasure and continued his story. "I needed money fast. We were about to be kicked out of the house… and then I found Big Eddie. Or rather, he found me. Doesn't matter now, but I got caught up in his dealings. I told myself… I _tell_ myself that I'm doing it for my family."

Olivia gulped. "And does it work?"

Again, the man met her eyes, and this time, they locked. Even though his eyes were the only part of his face not hidden under the balaclava, they looked heartbroken. "No," came his simple reply, but Olivia could tell that he was choking up behind the mask.

"Then get out if it. Just get up and leave. You have the power to do it." Olivia's eyes were burning again, but this time a passionate fire glowed inside them. "She lifted her head in an attempt to lean in closer to him, lowering her voice considerably. "I _know_ that you could take down each and every one of those men in a heartbeat."

"I can't," the man's voice was even, but he possessed a fire just as bright as Olivia's. "The money I get from this isn't much, but we're getting by. I can't secure another job, not while I'm like… this."

"Clark Kent did," Olivia replied with a slight smirk.

"This isn't a comic book. _This is real!_"

Olivia was slightly angered at his response. "You think I _don't_ know that?" She nodded down at her marred, injured body. The man tried to reply, but Olivia cut him off. "Why did you take me? If you're an honest man and this is really for your family, then you owe me that much."

Her stare was livid, wild, but it came easily.

The man swallowed hard, but kept her gaze. "Peter Bishop owes him money. But then again, I bet you already knew that."

Olivia nodded, wild gaze still in play. "But Eddie could have taken anyone close to Peter – why not Walter? That's Peter's father, I'm sure he means more to him than I do…"

The man sighed. "I'm sorry, I wish I could help you, but I can't, not without putting my family in harm's way. All I know is that Big Eddie wanted you because he knew that Peter would do whatever it took to get you back… and that meant getting his debts paid."

Olivia nodded. As much as Peter had tried to hide it that day he'd first made her laugh, there was something about him that betrayed his anxiety over the issue. She just never thought the matter would ever involve her on such a personal level.

He stood to leave and Olivia panicked. "You can help me! You can help your family! What did Eddie promise you that was so special? Just the money?"

"Protection for my family. If I do anything out of line…" the unfinished sentence left Olivia's mind to wander to all the horrible things that Eddie might do, and a sharp jab of nausea hit her in the gut.

"Please…" Olivia begged. She was close to tears now. For a while, she thought that she was getting somewhere with this man, but as he offered her a drink of water before standing up, Olivia saw the pain in his eyes had intensified. One glance showed that he hated himself for doing this to her. "Please…"

"Don't make this any harder for me than it already is," he spoke roughly but did not hurt her as he circled behind the pole and made sure that her bonds were still tight.

Returning to face Olivia, he sat her up quickly. "Listen to me," the man spoke with urgency as he cupped her face in his hands. "You will get through this. Do you hear me? Bishop will come for you. You'll be freed, Eddie will get his money and everything will be ok."

"But what about you?" Olivia's face was streaked with silent tears.

"I'll be fine."

He stood and exited the room in a hurry, leaving Olivia slightly puzzled and completely bewildered. His demeanor had changed from that of a scared man to that of a man on a mission. A faint hope blossomed inside Olivia, one that flickered in fear when the door opened several minutes later, and this time it was not the kind man come to visit her again.

* * *

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	12. Chapter 12

_good morning, all. my my, I've been a bad fic writer... it's been FAR too long since I've updated, and I do have a legitimate reason behind it. If you don't care about what my excuses are then, skip this next bit, because HOLY COW!! these last few weeks have been, well... 'hecticly mind-blowing and exhausting'... would be putting it mildly. VERY mildly. But i got all my stuff I needed to do done and out of the way, so I could sit myself down this evening (well, morning now!) and write this chapter that i've been dying to get out of my head and on a word doc for weeks now. yay!_

_Warnings for a little stronger language and some more violence, and with no further ramblings from me, I sincerely hope you like this chapter. I was having so much fun writing it, especially Olivia's perspective.... :)_

_Disclaimer: It ain't mine. You know it, I know it. No real need to repeat such a thing, I mean really...._

* * *

The hallway was quiet. Light gray walls and a white ceiling collaborated to create a corridor that three people shoulder to shoulder could easily traverse from one end to the other. On a normal day, the hallway would be bustling with agents and federal personnel. However, today was not a normal day, and the shiny black floor only saw a few pairs of shoes by early afternoon. Exactly two in the afternoon, according to the watch of the man who sat on the floor by one office in that hallway, his back resting against the wall, his shoulders hunched over, his eyes drained of their usual sparkle that always made him such a character to work alongside.

The scene would have been peaceful to the man had the looming shadow of fear not crept into every crack and cranny of the hall, slid down the walls, and seeped into his body, suffocating his mind.

Peter glanced up at the door to his right. Olivia's name, perfectly labeled on its plaque, looked back at him.

_It's my fault._

Peter resumed staring at the opposite wall.

_I led Eddie right to her._

He hung his head. It physically hurt him. Hurt his conscience because he couldn't do squat to help her. Hurt his mind because they'd exhausted all options, finding only dead ends. Hurt his heart because someone was trying to tear her from it. Hurt him, because somewhere, _she_ was hurting.

A lone pair of feet claqued their way down the hallway just above Peter's line of vision. The polished floor gave him a fuzzy reflection of… just another agent. Then another passed him by. And another.

Growing curious at the sudden activity in the once all but abandoned hallway, Peter looked up as three more young agents passed him by, two of them whipping out their blackberries as they did. The whole crowd was headed to his left, towards the room with the all clocks that he'd tried to stay away from….

A light vibrating in his jeans pocket alerted Peter to an incoming call. The caller ID made him stand up so quickly that black spots dotted his vision, but he waved them off and answered.

"Tell me something good."

"It's more than just good," Broyles' voice replied evenly. He had barely finished his sentence before Peter was already off and flying down the hall after the agents.

He returned to that hated room, now alive with the deafening noise of at least ten phones ringing, and a good two-dozen conversations running simultaneously. Broyles suddenly appeared from amidst the crowd as both men hung up their cell phones.

"About a minute ago, our scanners went berserk. They began picking up our signature radiation again, just like that," he explained as they practically jogged over to a computer monitor displaying a satellite map of Boston, accompanied by a bright green dot somewhere over West Medford. "The signal has been getting increasingly stronger, and only in this location," Broyles jabbed a finger at the screen for emphasis while Peter listened with rapt attention. "It's like someone is telling us where to go."

"We need a team – "

"Already done, they're assembling now. You'll be filled in on the plan en route. We're pulling out of here in three minutes, Bishop. Let's go get her." A ghost of a smirk appeared on his face for a fleeting moment and Peter was infected as well. Copious amounts of adrenaline mixed with a well of determination and Peter's own passion was a potent mix that fueled his limbs and set his pulse on fire. Less than two minutes later, eight black SUVs screeched away from Boston's Federal Building making a beeline to an address in West Milford.

"Now," an agent turned to face Peter, metal briefcase in hand, "This is what's going to happen…"

X

It was only later that Olivia realized that the only reason she survived that next beating was because of her spark of hope that the kind man had instilled in her. Why, she didn't know; he hadn't said anything to her that should have heightened her spirits so drastically. It was just the way he'd touched her and looked into her eyes as those last few words had flown off his lips.

Barely able to lift her head off the ground, Olivia was hoisted up by Ugly and Uglier. A few punches were thrown her way, a few kicks that made her gag and retch, not that there was anything in her stomach to empty in the first place. Scornful, vulgar words were flung at her, but never fully entered her mind, for her mind was elsewhere.

It had ended, and she had sunk to the floor. The routine was executed so normally, like this was done to people on a daily basis. Olivia had snickered to herself. Knowing Eddie, she probably wasn't too far off.

Even though she didn't have a clue what the kind man was planning, she knew that things were going to change. Somehow, some way, Peter was going to come for her. A giddy smile spread itself across her lips as she sunk back down on the floor and her cheek met blood-splattered concrete. The pain in her body that flared up from her movements dulled faded into the background as soon as it came, for when she closed her eyes, Olivia saw Peter, saw him running through the door to her room in the warehouse, pocketing the lock pick he'd just used to sneak in undetected. He'd undo her bonds and gather her into his arms, and that's where she would stay. Hospitals were a maybe, but no medical center would be able to heal her like being with Peter would. Memories of being held by Peter were too far and few in between, but all that would change when he came through that door…

Olivia allowed herself to stay inside her own little dream world for another moment, smiles and joy lighting up her features making them glow, despite the blood and the dirt. Things would change when she got back. She would tell Peter how much he meant to her, how he was the reason she would make it through this, and exactly how thankful she was that he was in her life. Hell, she'd tell it to him every damn day!

An hour of daydreaming passed all too quickly, and the door opened with a sharp bang that signaled her next 'appointment' with Eddie. The fact that the kind man had not come by in that hour reinforced her knowledge that he was out helping her in some way. So when Eddie had his goons pull her from the floor again, he looked stunned at the sign of the wide, playful smile that radiated from her damaged figure. His expression only made her chuckle, which, to Olivia's apparent delight, had obviously enraged Eddie.

_Here he is, thinking he's broken me. What a self-righteous bastard,_ Olivia's grinned widened and her lips got a hint of smugness about them.

Eddie himself was so enraged that he delivered the first blow straight to her left ribcage, which made a sickening crack. Eddie's aim was only slightly better than that of his thuggish employees, and a second punch glanced off the side of her nose. Olivia spat out the blood that had pooled in her mouth, hitting the front of Eddie's jacket. Her grin turned impish, and she laughed in victory. Eddie socked her on the side of the head, instantly overworking and damaging a muscle in her neck. She felt it happen, but Peter's face would simply rise to her mind's eye again and the new pain would join its predecessors in the back of her mind. Despite all the injuries her body had sustained, despite the weakness in her physically, somehow, amazingly, she was on top of the world.

That's when Eddie's anger became the better of him and he swore harshly, pulling a nine millimeter out of his back pocket. Olivia was expecting to feel the handle of it somewhere on her body faster than she could blink, but instead, Big Eddie unhitched the safety and pressed the cold barrel of the gun against the exposed skin on her chest. The chilled metal felt wonderfully refreshing on her skin. Olivia's gaze slowly lifted from the gun back up to Eddie's face, a dangerous, uncanny expression on her face that highlighted the dark circles under her eyes and exaggerated the severity of cuts and bruises on her face.

_I look mad_, Olivia thought. _He thinks I'm absolutely insane._

"One more word, bitch, and this bullet – " he jabbed Olivia back into the pole with the gun – "goes wherever I want it to. And then you're gonna bleed out. _Slowly_. Don't think that's so damn funny now, do ya?"

"No," Olivia replied evenly, "I think it's _hilarious_."

Eddie responded by driving his elbow into her collarbone and Olivia gasped, unable to catch her breath. Eddie clamped a hand over her mouth and nose, and she thrashed and fought him back, attempting to sink her teeth into his hand and butt her head into his, but her lack of strength again that of three fully grown men brought her no avail. Black spots began to crowd her vision, but Olivia resisted with all her might. This was _not_ how she would go down.

Another bang and the door flew open.

A porky guy poked his head in the door. "Sorry Boss, I know you're busy n' all, but I think you might wanna see this guy…"

Eddie ignored him and continued to attempt to suffocate Olivia until Porky spoke again.

"Boss, he says he's called Bishop… and he's got your money."

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_First of all, I wanna say a HUGE thank you to all my reviewers! And even if you don't review, I thank you for taking the time to read my stuff! I'm still kinda freaking out that this baby cracked 100+ reviews... WOW._

_ you guys kind of rock :D_

_wanna make that number go up even more?? ;)_


	13. Chapter 13

_Hey! :) I would have updated this sooner, but I wanted to get this one bit at the end of this chapter just right because.... well, you'll see. ;)_

_As always, I don't own anything in this story that is Fringe-y, Fringe-ish, or Fringe-related. But if anyone's looking for a possible birthday prezzie for me.... there's your hint, haha!_

* * *

Peter waited in the middle of the large, empty warehouse room, a silver briefcase in his left hand. Four guys with raised guns were positioned around him.

"Boys, is this really necessary?" he spoke softly, but a steel edge in his voice meant business and nothing else. Peter held up his hands, the edges of his jacket rising with them to display the fact that he was entirely disarmed, which was the truth, save for a Swiss army knife in his left pocket. Four pairs of eyes looked back and forth between the group, and one guy gave a gruff shake of his head; the guns remained where they were. Peter turned to the man on his right, a knowing yet cool expression on his face. "C'mon now, Beshoff. We go too far back to let something like this ruin our friendship," he said evenly.

The thug whom Peter had addressed looked up. He didn't lower his gun but nodded once in recognition.

Every movement in the enormous room created an echo that reverberated at least ten times louder, so when the door across the room clicked slowly open, it was as if someone had fired a bullet through the lock instead. Peter's head flicked to the door as goose bumps sent a silent shiver down his back and the length of his arms. Sweat gathered on his palms and made the handle of the briefcase slippery with perspiration.

_If all else fails_, he thought, _remember_ _Superman_.

One of Eddie's goons opened the door wide and stood back as Eddie himself ploughed roughly past him. Two more men flanked him, but there was no Olivia to be seen.

Peter forced a cool smirk into his lips as Eddie and his entourage approached.

"Peter Bishop. Long time no see." Eddie stood with his hands in his pockets as though it were a casual get-together. "Seems you've gotten a little dull since we last met, I must say."

"How is that so?" Peter replied smoothly, betraying no hint of the screaming fires that were erupting inside him at the sight of Eddie's face.

Big Eddie took his time peeking at the Rolex on his wrist. "Well, you're early by, oh let's see… eighteen hours."

"And?"

"And that's not our deal, Bishop."

"But to be fair to my own reputation," Peter began slowly, "I haven't lost my touch at all. In fact, I figured out where you were ahead of time, just like you challenged me to do. So really, I'm doing fine. Better than fine, really."

Peter kept his stare even, finding it easy to slip back into the role of the old Peter Bishop, the person he'd be before he met Olivia.

"That you are, boy, but this don't change our agreement. You don't get to see your girl for another eighteen hours, and until then, she's all mine." Eddie grinned wickedly and it took all of Peter's willpower to not smash his fist into Eddie's face… yet. He was losing his footing, and it was time to go out on a limb so that the tables would turn back in favor.

"Fine then, I guess you don't want your money." Peter shrugged lightly and turned around to walk away, but Eddie's voice stopped him.

"Like hell I don't, Bishop."

Peter smiled before he turned back around. He'd been counting on Eddie's lust for money to execute his plan effectively.

"I'm just having a little trouble believing that you're going to let me walk out of here with all your money… and your interest to top it off."

Eddie's eyes went wide for a split second before he recovered himself. "Interest you say? Makes me wonder what you had to do to get that much cash, Bishop. What'd you do, steal from the feds? Pick pocketed a few agents' wallets? Bet you even took a few bucks off that blonde when she wasn't looking."

Peter swallowed the anger down and managed a sly grin. "Yeah, something like that."

"Well, if I have all those years of interest, I wanna see it for myself," Eddie nodded at the man on his right who produced a small machine from the duffel bag slung on his shoulder. "It shouldn't take too long to count it all out, Bishop, so make yourself comfortable."

"This case doesn't leave my hands until I see her, Eddie. You know the rules. I want to see my merchandise."

Eddie stared at Peter for a minute that dragged out until forever in Peter's mind. But his exterior remained calm, an air of patient boredom about him while he waited for Eddie to come to a decision.

"You haven't changed a bit, Bishop. Always the man making the business deals," he said, signaling to two of his men and they exited the room through the opposite door, the one that Peter knew must eventually lead to Olivia. "But it strikes me as odd that your girl would be worth all this effort," Eddie threw his arms up for emphasis and then clasped them together, a sickening smile on his face. "Why go to all this trouble for someone else? I don't see you benefiting from this situation in any way."

The words stung, but Peter had to let them go if he was going to keep up his composure. "When have you ever given a shit about my motives, Eddie?" He raised his eyebrows for emphasis.

"Very true," Big Eddie's grin widened. He opened his mouth again, presumably to continue pursuing the matter, but at that point, the door clicked opened again, and Peter forgot all about Eddie's questions.

The two men had returned, and they carried Olivia between them, one supporting her under each arm while her feet dragged along the floor. She was struggling to find her footing; her ankles were bound, her hands were tied likewise behind her back, and her shoes were gone. A curtain of dirty, tangled hair hid her face as her head hung forward limply. The men dragged Olivia towards the group and stood her up roughly. Olivia then raised her head slowly, and Peter felt both ecstatic to see her alive and nauseous at the sight of her injuries. Bruises colored her jaw line and what he could see of her neck and chest that wasn't hidden by her shirt. Peter didn't have to see them to know that the pattern continued beneath the once white blouse. Cuts, some uglier than others, dotted her forehead, nose, chin, and hairline. One was bright red and more than two inches long, and it ran from her cheekbone to her chin. It was fresh, and the thought set Peter's insides squirming. But she was alive, and that was all that mattered. Alive, and her eyes shone when their gazes met. God, there was nothing more than Peter wanted than to scoop her up and take her away from this disgusting place, but he would have to wait. It was all about the timing.

"Well? Does she meet your requirements, Bishop?" Eddie asked as pleasantly as though he were showing off a prized candidate at a dog show. "Feel free to examine her yourself."

Peter looked Olivia once over and turned back to Eddie. "She's alive. That's enough for me." Peter was careful to keep the 'I don't really care, this is just business' façade up and running, for each passing second that he didn't have Olivia at his side was feeding the growing inferno inside him. More importantly, he knew that if he so much as touched Olivia that he would not be able to keep his emotions in check or hold back from gathering her into his arms.

_I am _never_ letting her out of my sight after this._

Eddie seemed pleased with his answer, and Peter handed him the briefcase. "I think you'll be pleased with the amount you find in there," Peter gave Eddie a smug grin and folded his arms casually across his chest. "It's a small fortune, if you ask me."

Bills were slotted into the machine and a fast-paced rhythm rung out from the machine as it worked away. The amplified sound gave the illusion that there were a hundred more machines in the room with them.

"One thing that has me curious, Bishop, is how exactly you found me," Eddie spoke over the noise of the money-counting machinery, "This was a very secure location, as of a few minutes ago. How did you do it?"

Peter was about to blast Eddie's mind with a whole monologue of scientific babble about radioactivity and its signatures, something that had always frustrated the thug back when he and Peter were dealing together simply because Eddie couldn't make heads or tails of what he said, but something stopped him. A movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention, and Peter saw Olivia ever so slightly shake her head no. How she knew what he was about to say was a mystery, but he trusted her… probably a lot more than she knew.

"I'm working with the FBI. I have the entire federal network of resources at my fingertips. It wasn't too hard to add one plus one and end up with two."

A twitch in Eddie's smile made Peter worry that he'd gone too far with that last remark, but thankfully the sudden silence signaled that the machines were finished counting Olivia's bail money.

Eddie looked at the number on the screen and his eyes visible widened. "One hundred twenty-five grand? I underestimated you, Bishop."

Peter smiled matter-of-factly. "I pay _all_ of my debts, Eddie."

Big Eddie grinned pleasantly. "I'm sure you do, boy. But you're going to have to wait to pay this one for another seventeen-some hours. You'll see your lady friend then."

"You can't can your way out of your own deal, Peter shook his head sadly, "I met your requests, _and_ I came early. I just don't think you expected me to pull through on that last part."

A fire was in Eddie's eyes – in short, Peter could tell that he was furious.

"Take your money. You've got it in your hands now, so you might as well, and then we'll be on our way." He nodded at Olivia, but his eyes never left Eddie's face.

Again, the man was seizing Peter up, trying to determine whether or not the offer was good enough to take.

"You always were a man of business, weren't you? Everything was either a business deal or a contract, and that's all you cared about," Eddie mused aloud as he walked slowly up to Peter, hands dug deep in his pockets. "But earlier when I said that you hadn't changed a bit? I lied."

At that moment, Peter knew he was screwed long before Eddie felt the need to explain himself.

"You actually _care_ about this girl, don't you, boy?" Eddie was practically breathing down his neck now as he flung an accusing finger in Olivia's direction, "And it's been eating you from the inside out this whole time because you've had to watch her suffer and do _absolutely nothing_." The thug was pinching a nerve that was already sizzling inside Peter, but he fought it. He had to stay calm – Olivia's life, and his, depended heavily on it.

Peter took a step back from Big Eddie and noticed that the briefcase was still open. Most of the men were gathered close enough to where it lay on the floor beside the counter. Olivia and her captors were slightly further away, but still well in range of the flash bomb that was hidden in the case's lining. Eddie was positioned in between him and the case. Plan B was going to have to happen now or never; all the feds needed was his signal.

"You know what, Eddie?" Peter began slowly, "Maybe you're right. Maybe I've gone soft, but you know what? I can't do it all. I'm no Superman."

Then Peter lunged himself at Olivia, squeezing his eyes shut as his momentum pried her from the grasps of the two thugs. They hit the ground moments after a bright light lit up his eyelids and a loud bang indicated that the bomb had detonated as planned.

Peter opened his eyes to see seven men, Eddie included, shaking their heads, hands clamped over their eyes. Smoke from the bomb had filled the room, something that Peter hadn't expected but welcomed openly; it would cover their escape perfectly.

Without hesitation, Peter scooped up Olivia, who was only slightly disoriented from the blast; he had purposely pulled her head into his chest to shield her eyes as much as possible. Once she was securely in his arms, Peter scanned the room for somewhere to run. The room was thick with whatever had been in that bomb, and Peter had no idea where any doorways were, so he ran towards an eerie red glow in the smoke, what he hoped was an exit sign.

He pushed the door open and ran into the fresh air, coughing and choking on the smoke, and blinded by the strength of sunlight. Peter ran another ten yards away from the building and blinked until his vision returned. They were in the middle of the gravel-covered parking lot, which was full of police cruisers, SUVs, and a few ambulances. Teams were pouring into the warehouse from all sides and radios crackled; all efforts were directed at apprehend Big Eddie. For now, no one was paying them any attention.

Exhausted, Peter sunk down to his knees and looked down at the woman in his arms. Olivia looked even worse in the daylight, but then she did something amazing. She smiled at Peter as a single tear rolled down her cheek, and he smiled back, using one hand to support her head and the other to run his hand through her hair, down to her cheeks, her neck. Before he got too carried away, Peter remembered her bonds and pulled out his Swiss army knife, cutting loose the bindings on Olivia's ankles and reaching around her to free her wrists. Olivia sighed with relief and rotated her wrists slowly back and forth. Her hands shook as Peter held them both in his, but she pried them loose, wrapping an arm around his neck and pulling him into a fierce embrace, one that Peter returned with all his might. One hand clung to her hair, and the other wrapped around her back, as they lay in the dust together.

"Peter… my ribs… not so tight," Olivia's voice in his ear alerted Peter to the fact that his embrace was too much for her undoubtedly bruised or cracked ribcage. He had barely loosened his grip when Olivia's voice, something that Peter had decided to be one of the most beautiful things he'd ever had the pleasure of hearing, spoke urgently, "But don't you dare let go." She resumed her grasp, fingers digging into his jacket with a force that shocked him.

"And lose you again? Never." Peter smiled into her blonde locks, turning his face slightly so that his lips could brush her temple. Olivia responded with a shudder, and Peter realized that she was crying: big, heaving sobs that were silent to all but him. Words of comfort trickled off his lips and eventually her sobs subsided. Peter placed a gentle hand on her face, pulling away just enough to be able to gaze at her comfortably, tears, scars and all. A pair of doe-like eyes that Peter never would have guessed belonged to Olivia Dunham looked back at him as he brushed dirty strands of hair back off her features. Cupping her face in his hands, Peter drew Olivia's forehead to his, and for a moment, they just sat and let heavy breaths become acquainted in the small air space between them. Peter closed his eyes and focused on the sound of Olivia's breathing, the way her skin felt warm beneath his hands, the fact that her arms were draped lightly on his shoulders.

A sudden loud noise behind them made both Peter and Olivia look up. Glancing over his shoulder, Peter saw Eddie and his goons being dragged out of the warehouse; smoke billowed behind them as the gas from the explosion vented itself from the building. Broyles was the one who slammed Big Eddie's face against the SUV when he resisted entry into the vehicle. "You don't know how long he's been waiting to do that," Peter remarked quietly to Olivia. She responded by slowly easing her head down to lie on Peter's chest, her arms wrapped around his torso, and sighing heavily.

Broyles approached them as a couple criminal-packed SUVs sped away, sending dust and gravel flying everywhere. He bent down to a crouch to be on the same level as his agent.

"Dunham," he placed a hand on her shoulder, and Olivia opened her eyes groggily.

"Yes sir?" Came her weak reply, but Broyles only smiled and gave her shoulder a light squeeze.

"Welcome back."

"Thank you, sir…" she smiled in turn before her eyelids drooped and closed. Peter readjusted his hold on Olivia as Broyles commended him on his work and returned to his full height. He tipped his head in the direction of the nearest ambulance, and Peter nodded in understanding.

As Broyles walked off, Peter vaguely heard him mention something about cleaning up the warehouse to one of the teams, but ignored it and instead focused on getting Olivia to her feet. Slow, cautious movements and a string of encouraging words later, Peter had successfully picked Olivia off the ground and had her on her feet. Peter tried to pick her up, but she protested.

"No, Peter, I can walk, just hold my arm…"

Peter did just that, slinging one of her arms around his neck with one hand and taking her hip in a firm hold with the other. He was practically carrying her by the time they got to the back of the ambulance positioned not fifty yards away from where they had been huddled on the ground.

Peter climbed into the back of the ambulance as EMS personnel began to treat Olivia. Peter held onto her hand the whole way to the hospital, her grip only faltering when pure mental and physical exhaustion got the better of her and sleep finally claimed her worn-out form.

* * *

_I had to draw out the rescue as much as possible... hope this makes up for like 5 chapters of the same old same old and waiting for Peter to come ;)_

_How bout a pre-birthday review? Your input is indispensable, and that's the honest to god truth :)_


	14. Chapter 14

_Hello my wonderful readers._

_I reckon it's about time I update this story because y'know what? School's done, exams are through and done with, the rowing season's finally come to its crazy end, and I wrote the bulk of this chapter at a wonderful little piece of perfect on this earth that I like to call my cottage. So really, life is good, and even better because I've had time to write this fic. She's not done yet, but this chapter is one of my personal favourites so far, so I hope you enjoy the read, and much love for taking the time to come back to this little story of mine!_

_Disclaimer: I do not own Fringe. But hey, if the opportunity ever arises... I SO call dibs ;)_

* * *

Consciousness regained its hold on Olivia a split second before the panic settled in. She sat up with a jump, the way an electrical shock would have caused her body to spasm of its own accord. Frightful eyes took in her surroundings in a flash. Pale blue walls, a window that allowed trickles of weak light to slip through its blinds, a nightstand, a chair, the bed that she laid on, the loose dark blue gown that only just fit her. Her sigh of relief was quiet, barely a ghost of a breeze, even in the small room. The soft fabrics seemed to absorb her slight voice into their fibers. With the confirmation of being safe, being away from _that_ place, muscles throughout Olivia's body relaxed... and pain took over. Every inch of her suddenly ached, burned or screamed at her for having woken up so harshly on top of her injuries. She searched her face with her hands: a couple stitches on her cheek; a few more near her hairline; some smaller cuts; a severely swollen lip. She didn't search for any further injuries past her arms and chest. They all sure as hell existed, that much she was certain of, and that was enough for now.

The soft clicking sound of an opening door made her jump again, eyes trained on the entrance to the small hospital room. The handle turned slowly, sending her blood pressure skyrocketing as a terrible cloud of dread invaded her mind.

A man stepped through the door, someone whom Olivia didn't recognize to be, as she feared, one of Eddie's goons, much less anyone else she knew. It wasn't until she looked into his piercing blue eyes that a spark of recollection burned in her mind. Those wonderful, kind eyes…

"Hello," the man smiled gently. He had a brilliant smile that had been previously hidden from her beneath a balaclava and layers of pain. Stepping quietly into her room now, he seemed to be free of some of those burdens. "There's someone I'd like you to meet…"

Momentarily puzzled, Olivia returned her gaze to the doorway, and a small boy of no more than eight or nine, hand planted firmly in his father's, shuffled in.

"This is Jason," the man's eyes shone with pride at the sight of his son. "Jase, this is the woman who helped daddy get a new job."

"A new job?" Olivia enquired, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

"Well, like you said," he shrugged and winked at her, an oddly familiar gesture, "Clark Kent did it, so why not me?" Olivia was sure that the twinkle in his eye wasn't a trick of the light; hers sure wasn't.

Oblivious to all the grown-up talk, the boy walked up to Olivia's bedside and tipped his head to the side, baby blues inherited from his father trained on her. "What's your name?" He asked; curiosity laced his small voice.

"Olivia. It's nice to meet you Jason," Olivia held out her hand and Jason shook it, a hint of a smile on his lips. She glanced up at the man and spoke softly, "He looks just like you."

Another smile from both men. "He's a good kid. Doesn't get into trouble, got a bunch of 'A's on his last report card," the man ruffled Jason's curly brown locks affectionately. "And," he added softly, "He's good at thank you cards."

Jason inched closer to the bed and pulled himself up to sit on its edge. One small hand reached into a pocket inside his jacket and pulled out a folded up piece of yellow construction paper. OLIVIA was written on it in big letters that were surprisingly neat for a boy his age.

Wordlessly, Olivia accepted it, opening it slowly for fear of ripping Jason's masterpiece. A lump formed in the back of her throat when she saw his drawing.

"That's me and mommy and daddy," Jason explained, pointing at a small colorful figure holding hands with the two taller ones on either side. He'd even gotten his father's blue eyes in the picture. "And that's you holding daddy's hand because he said you saved him. I drew the birds singing in the tree because they're happy that we're happy, and the sun's out too… because you made my daddy smile."

Olivia looked up at little Jason who was swinging his legs over the side of her bed, waiting for her approval. "D'you like it Olivia?"

"Jason… I _love_ it. It's… it's so beautiful, thank you." Tears threatened to spill over onto her cheeks but she held them back as the boy grinned happily.

"I hope you get better soon," Jason said, smile still in place. "Daddy said you're too important to stay sick for too long." With that, the boy hopped off the bed and returned to his father's side. Olivia met the man's gaze and saw that there were tears in his eyes too.

The man wiped his eyes and bent down to be on the same eye-level as his son. "Jace, go buy yourself a chocolate bar from that vending machine down the hall. Special treat, ok buddy?" The little boy's eyes went wide as his father placed two dollar bills into his little hand.

"Really? Thanks Daddy!" He hugged his dad fiercely and, to Olivia's surprise, spun to face her, jumped up and threw his little arms around her neck. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!" Olivia hugged him back, unable to stop herself from smiling. Not a moment later, Jason was bounding out the door and down the hall, money clutched in his hand and a silly smile on his young face.

Silence descended on the room in the little boy's absence.

"Your son is wonderful," Olivia spoke softly. "You've raised him well."

"I'd like to think so," the man chuckled and stared off into space for a moment as if her were envisioning his son in his mind's eye. A pause, then, "I had to come see you."

Olivia looked up at him, questioning, apprehensive.

"I don't think I could live with myself if I didn't check up on you. It's the least I can do," he smiled softly and sat on the edge of her bed. "You saved me, Olivia. You saved my son, my wife, my family. And I never found a time to thank you." The kind man gathered her hands in his and quickly wiped his own eyes. "So that's why I'm here, because I need you to know how much we appreciate what you did."

"But I barely did anything," Olivia replied, allowing a single tear to run down her cheek. "You were the real hero today. I never would have gotten away from Eddie if you hadn't left a trail of breadcrumbs for the Bureau – he would have killed me by now." A gulp of fear at the thought of what would have become of her had time run out. Olivia forcefully swallowed it down and continued. "You saved my life today, and so I thank _you_. And," she smiled shyly, "I don't even know your name."

Olivia squeezed the man's hands gently, but he shook his head to shrug off her last comment. "Names... that's not what's important right now. But, I think… I think we both ended up saving each other today. I believe it's fair to say that it was a joint effort." Chuckles escaped them both for a moment and then died away just as quickly. "Now, in all seriousness," the man continued, "you've honest-to-God changed my life, Olivia. I'm a better man today because of what you've done, and the way you showed me what better is, even in the middle of a situation like…." He trailed off and hurriedly cleared his throat. His eyes caught hers again and held them, blue orbs blazing with emotion. "I know I can never make it up to you, but I want you to know what you've accomplished, and what an amazing, breathtaking woman you are."

Before Olivia could react, he cupped her face in his hands and pressed his lips to hers in a quick kiss. "Take care of yourself, Olivia." The nameless man, that stranger she knew so well, gave her hand one last squeeze before he left, hands dug deep into his jacket pockets. One last smile from him at the door sent a shiver down her back, but she returned the gesture nonetheless. It painted a perfect last image of those eyes that she had grown accustomed to seeing in so short a time. But now those eyes were gone, out of her life. They belonged to a man with a family and many unknown days ahead of him, a life that could hold any one of a million possibilities in store. For a split second, she had half a mind to run after him, but what she would say, she hadn't the faintest idea.

Olivia eased herself back down, gingerly testing muscles and the extent of several areas of bruising. Eventually, she found a position that was comfortable and closed her eyes, letting another tear slip out of the corner of her eye and slowly trickle down to her pillow. Her brain was still caught in a whirlwind, and she didn't know how to make it stop, and God knew that was all she wanted after all that had happened in her life – just one, wonderful moment when all the bits and components that made up her life would stop spinning around her so she could just _breathe_.

It didn't feel like more than five minutes when the sound of clicking metal signaled a second visitor. Olivia sat up too quickly again, and despite the screaming injuries, immediate relief flooded her system for another familiar face greeted her, and this was just the one she needed to see.

"Hey…" Peter said softly, once he'd recovered from the obvious shock of seeing that she had woken in his absence.

"Hi," Olivia said, suddenly shy in his presence, as well as acutely conscious of the gaping slit at the back of her gown.

Peter held up a rich bouquet of flowers. "Got you these, but I never would have guessed that you would wake up so early, I wouldn't have gone if – "

"It's alright. They're lovely, Peter, thank you." Olivia smiled and rubbed her arms awkwardly. She didn't know what to say. Memories of the previous day brought her back to the dusty parking lot, to Peter. From the moment he rescued her, heavy emotions were added to the whirlwind, one that showed no sign of slowing down, even now. Peter had had time to think since she was pulled from that warehouse, time that her body valued in sleep. For her, that moment – what they had shared in the parking lot – might as well have just happened a few minutes ago, shortly followed by the emotional rollercoaster that was her conversation with the man and his son.

Peter placed the bouquet in the empty vase on her bedside table, clearly a standard element in all patient rooms. One of those crooked grins graced his lips and Olivia smiled in turn. Peter sat beside her and let one leg dangle over the edge of the bed. Their hips barely touched through the blankets. Olivia was caught red-handed watching him, but Peter only stared back. The minutes ticked by, and they remained locked in each other's gaze, one face studying the other.

"I should probably ask you how you're doing, or how you feel, but I know that the best answer I'll get is 'I'm fine'." Peter spoke, lowering his voice considerably, "But you and I both know that that's a load of bull."

He winked; Olivia managed a half-hearted smile, dropping her gaze to where her hands twisted nervously in her lap, and breaking their connection.

"So instead," Peter continued, "I'm going to tell you to go back to sleep because it's…" he glanced at his watch, "… seven forty-two in the morning."

Olivia lifted her gaze once again to meet his, and found a comfort there that was more than she could have ever asked of him. There was no indication that he wanted her to talk about what happened in the warehouse, no subtle interrogation in order to understand her mind better. He was just being Peter; Peter who allowed her the space that she needed, and Peter who would only step in when both he and she knew that she needed that push to get her back on two feet.

"Ok," Olivia spoke softly and nodded, but she didn't lie down immediately; there was something about his eyes that drew her in, a magnetic pull that rendered her powerless. Back in Eddy's warehouse, she feared that she would never get to see those eyes again; now, she couldn't get enough of them, and to be honest with herself, if she ever really needed Peter, it was right now.

Peter smiled at her in the hazy, early-morning light streaming through the blinds. "Most people prefer to lie down before attempting to sleep, you know."

Olivia felt the heat in her face, but she was surprisingly fine with it. Peter's smile widened and he leaned in, placing a hand on the back of her neck and pulling her into that special place where she fit perfectly between his chin and his chest. Olivia let her heavy eyelids drop and breathed in his scent. Her breathing grew ragged and a shudder traveled the length of her body. Peter had never felt so good to her; it was overwhelming the way that a simple scent could trigger such an emotional response from her, of all people. Olivia gave up trying to control her body as a deep, gasping breath escaped her. She reached up and clamped a hand over her mouth, feeling Peter's other hand cradling her head against his body.

"Shhhh…" Peter's voice rumbled deep through his chest and Olivia felt his comfort more than she heard it. His other hand migrated down her neck to her back, and secured itself there, holding her tightly. Fires erupted under her skin where Peter's hand caressed her exposed back, but Olivia barely noticed; her entire body felt like it was on fire when she was in Peter's arms, and it was exactly what she needed, to feel that trail blaze through her blood, to feel his vivacity enveloping her like an impenetrable shell, to know that, even after everything that the world threw at them was said and done, that he was there with her.

She felt Peter press his lips against the top of her head, and Olivia breathed her first truly even breath of the day.

Olivia opened her eyes again, looking up into Peter's face, his shining eyes that she loved so much, the small, crooked smile that warmed her from the inside out.

"'Livia…" Peter slurred her name with a hint of a chuckle in his voice and pulled her even closer to him, planting a kiss on her forehead. "It's good to see you again."

A smile appeared on Olivia's face, one that she didn't try to hide. She clung to Peter for what felt like an age, sometimes crying softly on to his shoulder, other times just breathing deeply, or closing her eyes and committing the rhythm of Peter's breathing to memory. Their embrace lasted long enough that Olivia eventually drifted off to sleep in his arms. The last thing that she knew was the sensation of Peter's fingers tucking a few stray strands of hair behind her ear and the gentle rumbling of his laughter.

* * *

_How was that? I hope I captured the emotions right; it took a lot of rewriting to get Olivia's feelings right, and I think that I just might have pulled it off for once (haha!) Also, the kiss between Olivia and the kind man wasn't supposed to be really romantic, per say - I just thought that it was a nice touch to add in._

_You know the drill, kids - that pretty button down there? It's you best friend. Really, it is._

_Reviews or not, I love y'all to bits simply for reading my stuff!_


	15. Chapter 15

_A/N: If you don't want to read this, it's ok, I won't be offended, just skip on ahead to the story!_

_To all my wonderful readers, those who review and make me smile with each and every one you write, and to those who just read, know that it still makes me happy that you've taken the time to read my stuff: I salute you, I thank you, I send you love, and God bless for coming back to read the very last instalment of _Kryptonite_. I know it's been a while, but believe it or not, I've been working at this for much of the time. I would get going, then lose my vibe, then get a bit, then lose it, and so on and so forth, until today. I got this burst of Godknowswhat and this is the result of that, plus all these months of writing, so it's a longer instalment, but hopefully one that will make y'all just a little bit happier this holiday season. I've had my ups and downs the last while (the majority being downs, I won't lie), but writing always makes me feel better, and I hope that reading this will do the same for you :)_

_So, here it is, the final chapter of the longest fic I've ever written! Take a seat, grab your hot cocoa, and enjoy!_

_(song used: Baby I Need You, by Kim Taylor)_

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A recently discharged Olivia opened the door to the Harvard lab she'd become so familiar with and took in the sight around her. There was Walter, lab coat and goggles on, completely engrossed by whatever lay in the Petrie dish before him. Ever faithful Astrid stood at his side, recording something in her computer; her hands flew across the keyboard at the speed of light. Gene mooed softly in her stall, drawing Olivia's attention to the sight of none other than Peter stroking the tuft of hair between the cow's ears. Both cow and human looked so happy that Olivia's smile turned into a quiet giggle, making Peter looked up.

"Olivia..."

He smiled and, after giving Gene one more affectionate pat on the head, began to make his way towards her.

"Olivia? Where?" Walter's confused voice drew her to the opposite side of the room where the scientist was looking around frantically at the mention of her name.

"Over here, Walter," she waved down from her spot at the top of the steps that eventually led into the deepest part of the lab.

Walter spun to face her, his eyes twinkling merrily. "My dear, you have returned!" He called whilst weaving his way between various machines and contraptions that were strewn in every which direction, all in an attempt to reach her. A smile graced Olivia's lips as Walter enveloped her in a big bear hug. "I was so worried about you…"

"More worried than Peter this time?" she replied jokingly as Peter and Astrid, who were all smiles, joined them on the steps.

"Oh, no, no, no," Walter replied seriously, "Peter always worries about you the most." A secretive smile in his son's direction, and Walter stepped back to allow Astrid to hug Olivia as well, who said a silent prayer of thanks for Astrid's bushy hair; Peter couldn't see the light blush that was surely creeping up her neck at such a Walter-like comment.

When Astrid pulled away, Peter stepped in. Olivia was expecting a hug from him too, but he just stared at her. Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw Astrid attempting to pry a very reluctant Walter away from them and back down to his experiment, but Olivia retained her focus on Peter.

"I thought you still had another day to go until you were discharged." He folded his arms across his chest, soul-piercing eyes searching her face. She opened her mouth to reply, but Peter stopped her with a hand held up _almost_ to her lips. "Don't even think about it."

Olivia was confused for a moment; then it dawned on her. Without even thinking about it, she was about to reply with 'I'm fine'.

Her amazed green eyes met the triumphant gaze of Peter Bishop, and something wonderful happened. A burning ember inside of Olivia exploded into a supernova that was all Peter. It was his essence, his way with her, and more things that she could barely understand much less put into words, and it all escaped her in a flurry of laughter and the biggest hug she'd ever given someone. Olivia wrapped her arms around Peter's neck passionately, and he returned the gesture, wrapping his arms tightly around her waist and nearly picking her up so that her toes only just brushed the ground. Peter just about swept her off her feet – literally. In that moment, she couldn't get enough of _him_, so letting go wasn't about to happen any time soon. Even when her feet met solid ground, Olivia only clung to him tighter, and, to her surprise, Peter's grip on her didn't loosen either. Before she knew it, her fingers were tangled in the hair at the nape of his neck, and she had buried her face in his shoulder.

"You're back," Peter whispered into her neck, his breath tickling her skin and sending a pleasant chill through her body.

"Yeah, I'm back," Olivia reaffirmed his statement just as softly if only to hear the truth voiced aloud once again.

Peter finally pulled away, but he didn't release her arms, holding her by her lightly by her elbows. Olivia looked questioningly at him, for he simply stared at her for a moment, and she was beginning to grow bashful under such a gaze. "Walk with me," Peter finally spoke and tipped his head in the direction of her office. Olivia obliged, allowing him to guide her with a hand on the small of her back. He opened the door for her and they both entered the small office. Soft light from the lab bled through the wide-open blinds and filled the small room with a pale amber glow. The door swung closed behind them with a creak and a metallic snap as the brass knob clicked back into place.

"Now that you're back and all… I have something I need to tell you," Peter said quietly, coming to lean on the edge of the armchair in front of her desk. "I've thought a lot about the night that we yelled at each other… and annoyed the hell out of your neighbors," he continued slowly, hands dug in his pockets as he approached her with ease. "At first, I was really upset about the whole thing. Then you were gone and … I felt even worse."

Olivia shook her head and leaned against the edge of her desk; Peter had halted his approach less than two feet from her. "But we made up in the car before the raid…"

"Nevertheless," Peter continued, "I still feel sick to think that I was mad at you like that… and then that you were suddenly gone, and that I couldn't do anything. Actually, I was almost a hindrance because, well, you can ask Broyles all about that." He chuckled which drew a smile from Olivia. "And because… it was you. If it was anyone else, I think it would have been different. _I_ would have been different. This all sounds ridiculous when you put it like this, but…" Peter trailed off and let his eyes linger on the floorboards before seeking hers in hope of finding some reassurance there. Olivia removed herself from the edge of the desk, giving him an encouraging nod. "You… you've somehow become something that I can't…" he struggled for the words. "That flying guy? The one who saved you? If I were like him, you'd… you'd be my kryptonite. Hypothetically speaking, of course."

"Of course. _Completely_ hypothetical." Olivia tried to maintain a mock serious face, though she couldn't help but smile. She'd never seen Peter tongue-tied like this. Also, she was going to lengths to remain… _outwardly_ unfazed by his words.

"You would be my weakness, Olivia. These last few days… they've shown me just how much you've got me wrapped around this finger of this place, but even more so, wrapped around you."

Olivia gulped as her outward visage weakened under the gravity of Peter's words.

"I don't know if you know this, but the reason I stayed here in Boston… yes, for my father, and because what we do is kind of a huge deal, but I stayed because I thought that you were different, 'Livia. Different than anyone else. These last, what, nearly two years now, I thought I was staying for you. Now… I'm sure of it. And it's taken me all this time to realize just how much I need you. So, _if_ I were Superman, then you would be my kryptonite, because… I've realized just how weak I am without you. Unfortunately, it took you being kidnapped by the biggest crook I ever got involved with to find that out."

He was a couple inches closer to her now. Olivia would have looked down in surprise when she felt his hand slip gently into hers, but there was something magnetic about his gaze that she didn't want to resist.

Peter beamed, placing a finger under her chin. "Your eyes are even green."

Olivia gave him a small smile back, even though her stomach was swarming with butterflies. Hell, she was nervous, but why should she be? _It's just Peter_, she told herself. Yet that was exactly the issue. It was _Peter_. The one who had become such a part of her life with unbelievable ease, the guy who was always ready to back her up, the reason she was still alive after more than a few close encounters with death and worse. He shouldn't be asking what he was without her; _she_ should be wondering where she'd be without _him_.

"Peter…" Olivia spoke in a whisper. Any words she thought would be an appropriate reply simply died on her lips, insufficient. She just stood there, wordless. "I don't know what to say…"

The finger on her chin migrated to her cheek and became a hand with a thumb that gently brushed across her skin.

"You don't have to say anything, 'Livia," Peter replied just as softly, tipping her head up as he gently leaned down to capture her lips in an unexpectedly sweet kiss. They broke apart after a quick moment, and a second time his lips touched her, this time on her forehead, sending tendrils of warmth radiating outwards across her skin. Peter's lips moved slowly into her hair as he placed both hands on her shoulders; gentle, but firm. "I just needed you to know," came the soft mumble in her hair.

Olivia's eyes were closed as she absorbed the feeling of Peter's touch in her hair and on her arms. She only opened them when their contact was suddenly broken, only to feel his hands return to gently tuck twin strands of hair behind her ears. Eyes now fully open, Olivia saw that he had backed away from her and was headed out the door with no more than a single glance back. Their eyes met for a second, and Olivia was moved by the amount of passion she saw in him, before the door closed softly behind his slowly disappearing form.

And there she stood, awestruck and utterly dazed by Peter's confession. A strong urge somewhere deep inside her instructed her to follow him, but an even stronger force better known by the names of fear and uncertainty kept her mind on such a reel that she couldn't think straight. Maybe this was what it felt like to have someone love her as much as Peter did. He hadn't said the words aloud, but _his_ particular choice of declaration was, in the Peter Bishop books, just about worth more than those three little words.

Granted, they both needed time to process, something that the little space that Peter had just given them would accomplish. Olivia let out a slow breath. There was also a matter of an innocent little kiss to try and think about, never mind the deep fervor and loyalty that lay embellished in his words. Her first day back was going to be more like a whole new chapter as opposed to a continuation of the last as she had initially assumed.

X

Olivia didn't see or hear from Peter until five o'clock. Considering that she'd arrived at the lab only four hours earlier, it hadn't been a full day of awkwardness or avoidance on either of their parts. They were well past that now. It was simply an unspoken agreement – they both had needed that time to process.

So when a solid four hours of off-and-on-mindless paper work had come and passed, Olivia picked up her cell phone and hit speed dial number three.

"Hey, 'Livia."

"Hi, Peter. I was just thinking… do you want to grab something to eat? Or just a drink?" She added hesitantly, fearing the silence that would follow her offer as he deliberated.

"Yeah… how about that old place on Marshall Street? The Green Dragon...?"

"The tavern. Sounds good. Meet you there in… half an hour?"

"I'll see you then, 'Livia."

With a sigh, Olivia ended the call and smiled. Drinks with Peter. Damn, she could sure use a good stiff drink, but somehow she enjoyed drinking even more when Peter was there. He was a character to be around, and someone who could get her a little more drunk and a little less inhibited without her needing to worry about any possible ulterior motives.

_As for tonight, however…._

Hell, she didn't even know how to finish that sentence. It was definitely going to be different then their usual time out for drinks. Tonight, it was more than just two friends out together; there would be a new atmosphere, a different rhythm to dance to; one that they hadn't tried out yet. Something totally and utterly _new_ that it was almost frightening. Nevertheless, Olivia got her keys and headed home to quickly put on something a little nicer than her usual work attire. After a quick sweep of her closet, she opted for a pair of dark, jet-black jeans and a deep crimson long-sleeved top that showed off some skin with a simple V-neck. Olivia pulled her hair up in a loose bun, but ultimately decided against it, letting her blonde hair flow freely down her shoulders. Snatching her black knee-length jacket off the back of a chair, Olivia double-checked the time before heading right back out the door.

At exactly five thirty-eight, Olivia found herself outside the bar. She put a slightly shaky hand on the door and pulled. The inside of the bar was warm and the soft lighting made it feel as cozy as it was rustic. One glance around the room and her keen eye had spotted him: A man wearing a light blue button down with a light gray sweater vest, whose light brown stubble was so attractive on him that it made her yearn to brush her hand against it.

Peter looked up from their table near the back of the bar on her approach and smiled. "Olivia, you look great."

He stood and pulled out the stool beside him for her before she had time to react.

"Thanks… You don't look half bad yourself." She sat and grinned at him; he returned it with a chuckle.

A shrug. "I do my best."

"Yes, you do," she replied quietly, more to herself than Peter, but he heard her and looked up. "What?" Olivia grinned.

"Nothing," he waved his hand, "it's just nice to see you all dressed up and a little more relaxed for once. Not that I don't love the pants suits and all, but a little change in wardrobe every now and then does you good, 'Liv."

Olivia returned his comment with another smile, generally unsure of what else to do. She was more nervous than she was willing to admit.

"Hey," Peter reached out, letting the tips of his fingers rest gently against the back of her hand, just like they had all those months ago on a quiet park bench. A mischievous smirk danced on his lips. "Are you thirsty?"

X

"One more song!" Olivia turned to Peter with wide, begging eyes, just as the last couple bars of 'Any Way You Want It' were met with drunken cheers from the bar's many occupants, most of whom were up and out of their seats to dance.

"You're not danced off your feet yet?" Peter laughed above the noise of the crowd asking for a slower song.

She gave him a smile in return. "Almost, but not yet."

"Ok, ok…" Peter grinned right back and, taking his cue from the opening chords of the next song, placed his hands just above her hips, closing much of the space between them. Olivia copied equally, reaching up to lace her fingers behind his head. They'd been dancing for a while now, but this was the first slow song that had been played. A sudden unnerving sensation stirred somewhere in her stomach, but it began to fade when lyrics began to accompany the soft acoustic guitar chords.

_Maybe I need you_

_Here in this hotel room_

_Thinking 'bout angels_

_Thinking 'bout what they do_

_Maybe they'll fly_

_Bring you right here with me_

_Cover the miles_

_Heaven knows what I need_

_Maybe I need you_

Peter's face was calm while they danced, but that flare in his eyes was thrilling her senses. For the first time in a _long_ time, she felt very alive in a way that chasing a perp down a dark alley just didn't do for her. It was more like a high than a thrill, because there was no way that this could be real.

_Maybe I need you_

_Here in this time so sweet_

_Everything quiet_

_Everyone going to sleep…_

By the second verse, the words had begun to dig into her heart and find more than enough meaning there. Olivia's heightened emotions were in the fritz more than ever, and she began to take shallow breaths and avoiding eye contact with Peter to keep herself from tearing up too much to be noticeable. But Peter noticed, and when he did, a whisper of her name as it brushed past her ear made her tremble on the inside. Outwardly, she wouldn't let on how damn emotional she was getting.

_Maybe I need you_

_Here in this world on fire_

_Everything moving_

_Everyone always tired_

_Thinking of futures_

_Everything falls away_

_Everything changes_

_Nothing has changed today_

_Maybe I need you_

Peter sensed her discomfort, and she was shocked to feel him shift to hold her tighter, gentler; all the ways she wanted, no, _needed_ to be touched as accurately as if he'd just peeked into her thoughts. It all felt so right. Him there with her, she folded up perfectly in his arms. It was wonderful. So naturally, when things got too good to possibly be real, Olivia got scared. Terrified, even. Without warning, she pulled away from Peter and shook her head as a form of explanation to throw at his confusion, and bolted for the front of the tavern, weaving in and around couples the entire way.

Once outside, Olivia took several large gulps of the fresh air, hands on her knees. Her lungs took in shallow, heavy gasps. They seemed to suffer in the chilled, moist air one moment, but relished in it the next. It made her head spin. There was little place to find shelter from the heavy rain, so Olivia clung to the wall at the edge of the covering, her face an inch from the solid waterfall of run off from the awning. Beyond her small sanctuary, torrents of water hammered the flagstone of the small side street and drummed mercilessly on the thick fabric above her head. Stray flecks of rain flying free of the downpour peppered her face at random, stimulating her jittery nerves with each new drop.

She faced the street, but the sound of the door opening behind her signaled Peter's arrival.

He was silent for a moment, something for which Olivia was eternally grateful, before choosing his words carefully. "That was too much."

When she didn't comment at first, she heard him sigh, but even more so, she glimpsed a fraction of the hurting that was pent up in that sigh. Not by sight, but by feel. The air currents that swirled in the small space between her back and where he stood changed. How she just _knew_ those signs? By some unidentified instinct. But there was something else she couldn't quite identify, and it told her enough to know that he was aching inside almost as much as she.

"I just needed some air."

"I pushed you too far too fast. I'm sorry, Olivia." A single hand slipped gently onto her shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze. "Will you even look at me?"

A split second, and then Olivia turned slowly to face him. They were closer than she'd expected. She swallowed down her nerves. "I don't know what happened, Peter, I'm the one who should be sorry for messing up this evening…"

She was ready to ramble on, but the preplanned list in her head was cut short by Peter's raised hand, just inches from her face. Hot breaths coddled around Peter's fingers, and that near contact was enough to send firecrackers off in Olivia's chest. She shivered, pulling her sweater tighter around her figure in a daring attempt to frame the cold for her unexpected trembles.

"You know what? Let's get out of here, go somewhere else," Peter suggested, a smile on his lips as he quickly lowered his hand. "I've already tipped the bartender," he assured her speculative complexion.

"That sounds like a good idea," Olivia put a smile on her face, knowing that it would lighten Peter's spirits if she did. He would be able to tell the difference between her real smile and a forced one in a heartbeat, but there was no need to fake anything, not here; trapped under an awning with someone who meant the world and more to her.

X

The wild rain had slowed to a timid drizzle as the cab was pulling up to the curb of a very familiar street. Olivia frowned as she stepped out of the vehicle, waiting for Peter to come around to the curb, her arms crossed.

"We're at my place."

Peter nodded in affirmation of her pointedly blunt statement while continuing his way up to the steps, disregarding her unimpressed look.

When he made no move to explain himself, Olivia rooted herself to the spot and prompted him with a slightly wary edge to her voice. "Peter?"

He finally looked around from where he stood by her door, seeing that she hadn't moved. Upon seeing her expression that was growing more and more accusatory by the second, his lips curved upwards into something between a smirk and a smile.

"Hey, I'm not up to anything, I swear. I just thought that your place might be a bit nicer than mine. You know Walter and his tendencies to make everyday, non-awkward situations excruciatingly uncomfortable. And I'm sure he'd have more than a few cracks about this…." He explained as she slowly ascended the concrete steps to meet him under the soft porch light. Olivia's glare softened as he pulled something from his jacket pocket.

"What is this…?" she asked softly. Her frown of apprehension had turned to one of curiosity.

Peter shrugged innocently as her placed the small chocolate-brown box in her hands. "I don't know. I guess you just have to open it."

At this, she smiled, and Peter's heart fluttered. He doubted that she knew how precious her smile was to him.

Olivia's breath caught in her throat as she slowly pried open the lid, revealing a small note that simply read: _To one that I hold most dear._ A quick glance up at Peter revealed the light blush that they both wore, though no words had been spoken aloud. Gently flipping the note up so that it remained safely fastened in the lid, Olivia put a hand to her mouth and stared in wonder at what lay beneath it. She looked up at Peter in amazement, who was smiling now in addition to his rosy cheeks.

"It reminded me of you, 'Livia."

Still shocked, she gently pried the item from the folds of silk in which it lay nestled and held it gently between her fingers. The silver chain shone with the amber glow of the soft lamp and the light flecks of rain, which also highlighted the delicate grooves etched into the smooth, circular pendant: _πνεύμα._

"What does it mean?" she asked quietly, tearing her eyes away from the necklace and back to Peter.

He took a step closer to her and touched the pendant gently as she held out her hand. "_Pnévma._ It's Greek, but you already knew that I'm sure." He winked, and she grinned. Peter gently took the gift from her hands and motioned that she turn around. Olivia obliged and pulled her hair up and out of the way as he continued softly. "It's the Grecian word for spirit," he explained, as two hands came around her to gently position the necklace at the perfect height before fastening it. "It made me think of you because…"

He trailed off just as the he finished attaching the two ends of the chain together. Olivia gave a slight shudder when his fingers brushed her skin, and she turned to face him, letting her hair fall back in place.

"Because…?" she prompted him yet again, but softer this time, and Peter nodded before continuing.

"_Because_, I did a lot of thinking after we talked in your office earlier today. And I realized that I was wrong. I was wrong to think that you were my weakness." He stepped closer to her, and Olivia did not back away. "I've never been so wrong in my life. Olivia," he smiled and laid a hand on her cheek, feeling her warmth there and thriving in it, "you are, by far, the furthest thing from my weakness. You're my _strength_, 'Livia. You're what keeps me going, and the reason why I fought so hard to bring you back to me. God knows the why or the how of it all, but I'm stuck on you, 'Liv. You've got a strength about you too – your strength of spirit. Your character. It's just _you_, and that's all I need to keep my head above water." He brushed his thumb gently across her cheekbone once, if only to commit the feeling to memory, before reluctantly removing his hand from her touch.

"Peter…" Olivia's voice came out softly, almost in a whisper. She didn't know how to put her feelings into words. It was impossible.

"You know," he added with a small chuckle, "Hercules was a Greek hero. The god of strength and the averter of evil, and he was the keeper of the gate that divided the two worlds, heaven and earth. Sound familiar?"

Olivia's eyes widened, and she shot Peter a disbelieving gaze. The parallels were eerily similar, and it both frightened and thrilled her to the very marrow of her bones.

"What exactly are you trying to tell me?" She asked curiously, eyebrows raised, good-natured smile set firmly in place.

"Oh, not much," Peter began casually, tentatively touching a finger just to the side of her chin. Then his eyes darkened with emotion and he inched closer to her. "Just that you are, by far, the best thing that has ever happened to me. And I mean that, 'Livia, I really do. We're quite a pair."

"That we are," she replied, her voice laced thick with a passion that no longer lay dormant within her. "And I wouldn't have it any other way."

They stood so close, their bodies pressed together, yet their faces not an inch or two apart. His hands had somehow come to rest on her waist, and hers had found their way to his forearms. Then she smiled, and Peter's perpetual grin that always surfaced sooner or later lit up his face. The smiles were joyous, infectious – and neither one dimmed in the slightest, not even when Peter leant in those last few inches and planted a chaste kiss on her lips. She smiled against him and kissed him back, purely overwhelmed and elated. It was innocent and sweet, and it was more than perfect. If anything, tt was exactly what she needed and wanted: to feel that he was hers to hold and hers to cherish to no end. Peter only wanted to make her feel safe and loved, because it was what she deserved. Maybe he could give her even more than this one day, more than whatever this beautiful thing was that they had discovered together. But for now, this was all they needed.

They broke apart, each laughing more wholly and jovially than the other, as their foreheads met somewhere in the middle while the giggles subsided to contented smiles. Olivia closed her eyes. Yes, this must be what undiluted happiness felt like. It'd been so long, she'd almost forgotten.

"Hey," Peter finally spoke softly, tipping her chin up with the lightest brush of a finger as he raised his own head.

"Yeah?" she replied, making no efforts to suppress her small grin.

"It's getting late. Let's say we get you inside and get some rest?"

"Ok, but on one condition," Olivia's grin widened and gained a gleam of mischief.

"And that is?"

"You have to promise me that we're going to do this more often."

Peter's smile now mimicked hers. "What, you mean go out for drinks, dancing, and end the night off with a few kisses on the doorstep?"

Olivia gave a nod and a shy chuckle. "Sure! Why not."

"Well I think I can arrange that for you, Miss Dunham," Peter murmured dramatically and leaned in once more, this time placing a kiss on her cheek as she laughed again. God, it felt so good to laugh.

He offered her his arm, which she took, interlocking the crook of her arm with his.

"Come on," Peter smiled warmly and tipped his head towards the door.

Olivia nodded in response, her stunning smile ever-present, and they fell in step together as she exhaled gently, laying her head against the strong but steady comfort of his shoulder. Her hand found his, giving him a gentle squeeze that said it all and more. For Olivia knew that mere words would never be enough to convey the undying love she had for Peter, her wonderful partner and friend, her very own man of steel.

* * *

_I know it's been a while, but care to send me one last little tidbit of a review? ;)_

_I love to hear your opinions, as always!_

_Many, many thanks to you all for sticking around long enough to read this whole fic, whether you've been around since the first few chapters or you just started now._

_God bless you all, and all the best holiday wishes to everyone!_

_xoxo_

_Kate_


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